Ask Elrond
by labradorite
Summary: Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it’s easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. NO tampering with letters. That means YOU, Elladan and Elrohir!
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: This fic will be completely OOC, AU, unBETA'd, and other fun acronyms like that. If you can't handle that, I suggest you leave before I sic one of my balrogs on you *innocent smile*. I do not promise these to be knee-slappingly funny, nor do I promise to stick to canon. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's, I just like to borrow the characters and setting and manipulate them for my own enjoyment.**

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_*~*Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it's easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. No tampering with other's letters, please (this means you, Elladan and Elrohir!!)*~*_

Dear Elrond,

I am an elf in love with a mortal. Whenever we talk about the future, he freezes up and refuses to talk about it. Not only am I starting to think I was just an easy lay, but I am so desperately in love despite the fact that our relationship working out is so improbable. My father is furious with the idea and, though I'd willingly give up my entire family, life and culture for this one man who will die in only a few short years, I don't know what to do.

Oh, and he is also my foster brother. But I don't really think that makes much of a difference.

Please help!

Uneven Star

***

Dear Uneven Star,

You should immediately end your relationship with this man and forget you ever knew him. Go to Lothlórien, put up your feet, relax a bit, and find a nice, suitable elf to marry (preferably of some level of nobility, though that isn't imperative).

Oh, and incest is frowned upon in even the darkest of societies, so it worries me that you don't find this to be a problem.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I am only a floating, flaming eyeball, but I still have feelings. My minions forget about me all the time and I am often not invited to afternoon tea, despite the fact that I could keep said tea warm all evening. If they aren't neglecting me, they are having tournaments to see who can get closest to me without being burned or who can throw rocks directly in the center of my pupil. What can I do to stop this bullying?

OneRingToRuleThemAll

***

Dear One Ring,

Have you sat down (or, er, hovered closer to the ground) to talk with your minions about what is bothering you? Perhaps they are frightened of you. You are, after all, attempting to take over Middle Earth and all of its inhabitants. Maybe if you weren't so powerful, they would be more inclined to include you in their fun; my advice is to destroy the one ring, implode all over Mordor, and have fun with your orcs.

Lord Elrond

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Dear Elrond,

No matter where I go, whether it is to practice archery, dine in the main hall, or take a nice, relaxing walk in the gardens, I am constantly being followed by scary, American teenage girls. They giggle madly at everything I say and wear the most disgusting, revealing clothing! I am not interested in any of them but am too polite to refuse their advances (and, for Eru's sake, I am over 3,000 years old. Do they honestly think I would bond with a 14 year old?) and am truly becoming frightened of their insistence. Help!!

DesperateBlonde

***

Dear Desperate,

If you stopped being so yummilicious and reeking of princely gorgeousness, perhaps the young ladies would retreat. Try refraining from bathing and washing for a few days and see if they can tolerate the smell. If that doesn't work, maybe you should _finally _pick a bride (because, honestly, Legolas, your father is desperate for grandchildren) and show all of Middle Earth that you are not interested in said frightening American adolescents.

If all of those don't work, you should locate Orlando Bloom, fashion him in your tunics and leggings, and send him into the heart of Mirkwood where he can be attacked by scary fangirls. Best of luck to you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I am desperately, passionately and madly in love with you. I have been for many years, and never had the courage to tell you. I know your wife is merely in Valinor, and you are going to see her in a few years and are still bonded with her, but if you were ever interested in dating again, I would be more than willing to oblige.

With all of my love,

Mirror Image

***

Dear Mirror Image,

I am flattered by your confession, but, as you pointed out, I am happily married and not at all interested in dating again. I kindly suggest you try dating other elves, or perhaps buy yourself a nice cat to keep you company.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I am only seventeen years old, but am faced with the task of finding five horcruxes in order to kill a mad wizard who is trying to take over the world. In addition to that, I am expected to decipher the rambling messages of my crazy old headmaster who died before being able to explain anything to me. How should I go about doing this?

Oh, and I have an awful scar on my forehead that everyone stares at, I don't have any parents to talk about my problems with, the girl I fancy is out of my reach and everyone I love ends up dying before they manage to convey anything of importance to me.

Please help!

TheBoyWhoLived

***

Dear Harry (for there is no point in being discreet, no one in this world knows who you are anyways),

First, I would get the hell out of Middle Earth and return to your own story. You won't solve any of your problems by hanging around here. Second, maybe you should go talk to the portrait of your dead headmaster hanging in his old office and ask your questions.

Your scar can't be helped; you might as well live with it. (If you haven't gotten used to it by now, maybe you can try covering it up with some makeup. Just a dash of skin toned foundation and voila! Instant coverage.) I understand you have no parents, but don't you have about three dozen adults who would more than willingly fulfill your every wish?

And as for the girl you fancy being unattainable (which we all know isn't true for a stud-muffin like you) you should talk to Legolas, as I'm sure he would be more than willing to give you one or more screaming fangirls to take home with you.

Lord Elrond

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_This letter sent courtesy of Círdan, who is intercepting all advice letters from Valinor._

Dear Elrond,

I know you were not expecting me back, but I decided after much thought that my poisoned wound really wasn't _that_ bad, and have returned to Middle Earth. If you would be so inclined as to return to our bedroom, take off your robes and greet me properly, I would be much obliged.

Sincerely,

Celebrían

***

_Lord Elrond's reply was cut short as he ripped off his clothing and ran from his office. Please stand by._

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**A/N: Well, that's all for today, but many more to come! Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

_*~*Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it's easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. No tampering with other's letters, please (this means you, Elladan and Elrohir!!)*~*

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_

Dear Elrond,

This is not so much a letter seeking advice as it is a letter of complaint. I was quite unhappy with my most recent trip to Rivendell would like to raise question as to how you handle the Last Homely House. If it wasn't the incessant Elven singing keeping me up all night, it was their eerie glowing; in addition, whenever I asked a question I was either referred to someone else or given a vague, cryptic reply. I would also like to point out how conceited I think it is that you named our meeting the "Council of Elrond," as it concerned all of Middle Earth and not just yourself.

All of these things caused me to be cross with my wife, who in turn banned me from our marriage bed until further notice. I hope you realize that you must take full responsibility for such problems, and leave it to you as to how to make it up to me. A full refund is also expected.

Sincerely,

Glóin, son of Gróin

P.S. My father was also snickered at whenever he introduced himself. This was most rude and an apology is needed to ease our resentment.

***

Dear Glóin,

I apologize for your unhappy time spent in Imladris, but do not under any circumstances take full responsibility for it. Elven singing is a deep and profound cultural art, and considering the state of affairs under which you were visiting, such a thing was necessary.

Elves cannot help our glowing. It does not turn on and off at will, and as for you being cross with your wife, I think both of us know I can't do anything about that. Females are the same in every species, it seems.

Also, you not only didn't spend any money on this trip, but were treated as an honored guest to the Council of Elrond. Speaking of which, I hosted, ran, dictated, and decided upon the meeting; when you have done such things, we can have the Council of Glóin.

Lord Elrond

P.S. Your father's name is quite funny, and he seemed quite unperturbed (and possibly even pleased) when his name made the little ones giggle.

* * *

My Dearest Elrond,

I am convinced that I cannot live without you, and expect to fade away any day now. If you can stand having the death of another on your shoulders, you can continue to ignore my feelings; if, however, you are the sensitive, gorgeous, powerful, understanding, talented, intelligent, wonderful elf I think you are, please let me show you how true my feelings are.

I am pining away for you, darling, and eagerly await your response.

Love,

Mirror Image

***

Come see me in my office immediately, Elladan and Elrohir.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

This is not an advice letter, but a letter of appeal. I am a vampire in love with a human girl. If this wasn't problematic enough, her blood is more appetizing to me than any other mortal. This is not my real concern, however. My _real _concern is that I'm trapped in a novel with atrocious, tweeny writing, way too many repeating adjectives and a stand-still plotline. I believe my story to be an interesting one, and was wondering if perhaps you could write something for us? Feel free to twist around the story and characters, have fun with it, try out some slash if you feel so inclined. Just, _please, _for the love of all that is holy, do not make me save Bella's life one more time.

TiredOfBeingScintillating

***

Dear Edward,

I would love to write you a better plot-line, but I am extremely busy running a city, preventing my daughter's marriage, and generally trying to save the world. If I ever get some free time, you will be the first one I call. But please keep in mind I am due to Valinor in a little under three years, so you may have to contact me via that handy mind-reading technique of yours. Can you not also communicate with the minds you listen to? Galadriel can, maybe you should take lessons from her.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Could you please pass on this letter to Lord Glorfindel, when you get a chance? I'm currently involved in a battle of epic proportions with a fiery balrog, and if I don't get some help I'm going to be defeated. I'm sure Mandos would let me be reborn, but there is no way Saruman will let me live this down if I die in the process. I understand Glorfindel died fighting _his _balrog, but he also killed it, which is slightly more redeemable.

Have him get back to me when he's not too busy, and I hope you're having a pleasant evening!

Sincerely,

Gandalf

***

Dear Gandalf,

Balrogs are extremely ticklish behind their horns. Granted, it's quite difficult to _get _to that particular spot, but that was how I defeated "my" balrog, as you put it so nicely. Other than that, you're on your own. Good luck!

Glorfindel

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aitchtee_

Dear Elrond,

Some centuries ago I arrived in Middle Earth with four other Istari. My companions disappeared shortly afterwards never to be heard of again. Have you any clues where they might be?

The Grey (sorry, make that White) Wizard

***

Dear The White Wizard,

Your companions are with the entwives, unfortunately for the ents, and as no one knows where _they _are, you have very little hope of finding them. I would recommend getting over it, as it is unlikely you shall see them in the near future.

Would you like to come round for tea this weekend? Celebrían has some female bonding thing I'm not permitted to attend.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know I'm technically dead, but when your foster son and Legolas sent me down the river in that blasted boat, they forgot to toss in my wallet. I know it seems silly to think of such things now, but I left my Social Security Card number in there as well as several credit cards, and would hate to cost my father a fortune. If you would be so kind as to take care of that for me, I would be much obliged.

Boromir, son of Denethor

***

_Lord Elrond found it pointless to reply to this letter, as it was sent from beyond the grave and he had no way of responding._

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**A/N: I got some excellent feedback from the last chapter, thank you so much to all my reviewers! I hope you enjoyed this one, plenty more to come!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. Just…wow. You guys are AWESOME. The feedback for this story has been absolutely phenomenal, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart! Many of the following letters were submitted by reviewers, and I provided the responses. **

**In case you were wondering how I know what Elrond would say, I currently have him locked in my closet and I read him the letters once they were finished. He's quite a good houseguest, he barely ever complains and he lets me dress him in the most outrageous outfits (note to the fangirls: elves look good in black leather!). I let him out from time to time to explore and see his family, and while he's gone I keep Glorfindel in there (yummm). **

**I'd love to hear from you all! Hope you enjoy!**

**

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**

_*~*Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it's easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. No tampering with other's letters, please (this means you, Elladan and Elrohir!!)*~*_

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_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

Dear Elrond,

I sent my son to visit Rivendell not long ago and haven't seen him back in a while. He sometimes spends time with those *coughanimalscough* sons of yours and that horrible-smelling Dúnadan Ranger you fostered a while back. Could you please find him, give him a nice, hot bath and send him home ASAP? And don't let him fool you into letting him go anywhere else - he gets quite enough adventure here at home.

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (Mirkwood to the faint of heart)

***

King Thranduil,

Er…I just wish you had written me sooner. This is a rather uncomfortable situation. You see, I may or may not have sent your son on a journey to destroy an evil ring and almost certainly to his death…but he made the decision to leave on his own, I assure you! I would try to retrieve him, but as he's already pledged his life to the Fellowship, it would seem cruel to force Aragorn and Boromir to deal with the hobbits by themselves.

But let me make clear that it is definitely possible for him to return alive; he may be possessed by Sauron, though. It is hard to make any promises as of yet, but I will contact you when I learn anything more.

Lord Elrond

P.S. I in no way ignore the fact that my sons are animalistic, and Estel's human genes are to blame for his scent. Though I don't much appreciate you taking jabs at my sons, I understand I was responsible for sending _your _son galloping off to his doom, so I'll let that slide.

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_Idea submitted by dinopoodle_

Dear Elrond,

Are there indoor bathrooms in your house or does everyone have to use a joint one?

Bashful

***

Dear Bashful,

I assure you we have several bathing facilities throughout my house and, were you to visit, would most likely receive a private one as you are a guest. Unfortunately, if you join me in my home with your six brothers, you may have to share.

Lord Elrond

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_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond,

I have heard from two very reliable sources that my time in Imladris is nearly at an end. And while it is always my honor to do my duty to my home and king, I regret that I find myself in your healing ward due to an unfortunate decision to follow some orc tracks without telling the rest of my party where I had gone. The result being an unpleasant encounter with a hoard of orcs, a few wargs, and a cliff face. You might also be interested in knowing your foster son, Estel, is here with me.

As I promised my father I would not fall into any trouble on my most recent trip to your fair lands, I would ask for your advice in explaining the arrows piercing my body as well as the warg teeth marks in my posterior. I am also curious: has Estel always had a penchant for falling off cliffs? And how is it that every time I visit your hidden realm I find myself engaged with orcs while out on patrol with your sons?

I trust to your wisdom in explaining the current situation to my father, Thranduil Oropherion of Eryn Galen.

Legolas

***

Dear Legolas,

I'd like to extend my apologies at the frequency of your visits to my healing ward. Luckily for us, elves heal at a very rapid rate, and hopefully your wounds will have healed before your return home. If they don't, please refer him to Lord Glorfindel (and not to me, thank you) if and when he has any complaints. I would recommend taking this time to come up with some convincing lies to tell your father (perhaps about a failure at courting an elf maiden? Surely he cannot be angry with you for that, as he is desperate for you to marry) and then inform me upon your decision.

Estel has always been very eager to, err, explore the bottoms of ravines and cliffs. We attempted to beat this out of him as a child, yet still he continues to flail about and slip from the edges of tall precipices. If this happens again, please send for Elladan and Elrohir, as they invented a handy little machine that can lift my foster son without having to venture down below.

As for meeting up with orcs each time you venture out, I would like to mention that my sons have a knack for finding orcs and relish in the idea of killing them. It has become a contest and a sport for them. It is very possible they are lying to you when they say it is a coincidence. And speaking of lying to you, your "reliable sources" are never to be trusted.

Though I feel your pain (thankfully not literally) about the situation with your father, I fully intend on sprinting in the opposite direction when he questions me. Your father is a very scary elf, and I have no intentions to handle him while he's in one of his tempers.

The best of luck to you,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by dinopoodle_

Dear Elrond,

I've always been curious—what do elves wear underneath their robes?

UnderWear

***

Dear Under,

All elves go commando, but don't tell anyone I told you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

To My Love,

I was highly offended by the last response to my message; how dare you accuse me of trying to trick you! I am NOT Elladan and Elrohir! I am deeply in love with you and you are MOCKING my love! I thought you were better than that! How dare you!

I am very angry with you, but will learn to forgive you if you reply to my message in kind and meet me for a tryst tomorrow evening at 7:00, in the east garden. See you soon!

Mirror Image

***

_Elrond, while he felt it was necessary to reply to this message, was in such a state of shock that he was unable to respond. Please stand by._

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I am a pirate from the future (or possibly another planet entirely), but I heard about your advice service from Harry Potter, because I was recently pillaging with him. He's a strange lad, seems a little addled to me. Anyways, he said you would answer any questions even if they weren't for advice, and as I am currently low on options, I'm going to send this letter in this empty bottle and hope that it gets to you.

So here's my dilemma: do you happen to know where my rum is?

You see, I know WHY it's gone, I've had that question answered for me (in a rather brutal fashion), but I don't know WHERE it is. If you have it, please send it with your wife the next time she returns to Valinor.

Thanks,

Captain Jack Sparrow

***

Dear Jack,

I'm not exactly sure why Harry Potter is spending time with you, as he's _supposed _to be saving the wizarding world. That boy is hopeless. Nevertheless, I do not in fact know where your rum is. If we ever had it here in Imladris, it is highly probable that Lord Glorfindel or my sons have consumed it already. I apologize on their behalf.

Lord Elrond

P.S. And, for the record, I would _never _send my wife to meet you. I know your reputation with married women all too well, thankyouverymuch.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I was recently pondering my mirror when I saw a most peculiar thing: a vampire from a bad pre-teen novel came to Imladris seeking your advice and ended up killing half of the population while waiting for you to do something for him.

This is most troubling, so I thought I would tell you immediately. Get back to me soon.

Lady Galadriel

P.S. Are you coming round to Lothlórien next month for Celeborn's begetting day? Thranduil promised to make his famous cream puffs.

***

Dear Galadriel,

Oh, um, is that what's going to happen? I did invite Mr. Cullen to Imladris, it's true, but he assured me he was in control of his vile urges. Well, I'll just have to cancel then. Arwen won't be happy, she was looking forward to seeing how scintillating he really was. What a shame.

We're planning on attending the party, yes. Gandalf is going to make his favorite party salsa and Celebrían has turned the children into the Von Trapp family singers as a surprise for her father. It has turned into a fiasco of epic proportions.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I have a problem. I'm interested in overthrowing the Sultan of Agrabah, and I thought the best way to do this was to marry the Sultan's daughter, Jasmine. Unfortunately, some ridiculous character with a stupid name wearing a red fez has shown up and captured her heart, making it nearly impossible for me to capture the throne. What do you suggest I do to ensure my inheritance?

Jafar

***

Dear Jafar,

Well, first things first I would try and distract the Sultan with something shiny. He likes small toys, does he not? You'll be one jump ahead of the game if you accomplish that. After that, try to capture the genie Prince Ali (fabulous he) has and get your three wishes (and for Eru's sake, please use one of your wishes for better facial hair). You can then wish for the throne and be your awesome self.

When all of that doesn't work, I would suggest moving to outer space, looking up Spock, and relaxing a bit. It's a whole new world out there, I assure you. Nothing like the Arabian Nights you're used to.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: So, I've realized that most of these letters aren't precisely **_**advice **_**letters, but more random things that pop into my head (or those of my faithful reviewers). I hope you're all okay with that, because it's probably going to only get worse in future chapters.**

**Special message to Aeärwen: You've turned off PM's so I can't reply to any of your messages, but I'd like to! Please let me know a way to contact you so I can give you a proper reply.**

**Toodles! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: I have absolutely **_**nothing **_**against slash or slash writers! I just thought that Legolas might have a problem seeing himself in that situation ;)**

**The elves have taken over my bedroom, I'm afraid. Elrond got angry about being locked in the closet and broke free, and now I can't get rid of them. Haldír and Glorfindel are playing badminton with my socks, Galadriel, Rúmil, Legolas and Elladan are having a giant gin rummy battle, Elrohir and Arwen are reorganizing my dresser, and all the others are terrorizing me while I try to find a place for them. It's going to be an interesting night.**

**You all are completely wonderful; the feedback I've gotten has me absolutely dumbfounded. You all make me smile!!**

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**

_*~*Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it's easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. No tampering with other's letters, please (this means you, Elladan and Elrohir!!)*~*_

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_Idea submitted by __Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond,

I have spent the last eight years designing the ultimate shoe. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, the shoe was recalled and it cost the corporation I work with just shy of one BILLION dollars. As you can imagine, I was fired. I really wish to kill myself, but on top of everything else, my dad died in Kentucky. (What a lousy day, eh?) I met this girl on my way to Kentucky to handle the funeral arrangements, and she keeps showing up everywhere though she claims to have a boyfriend. I can't quite figure her out.

What should I do? Should I kill myself? Try to win the girl? Should I have my dad cremated or go with traditional burial?

Drew

***

Dear Drew,

First, let me extend my sympathies about your father and your pathetic love life. I know you're probably expecting some positive, encouraging letter convincing you to remain on this earth and go on with your life. Well, to be straight with you…you should probably kill yourself. I mean, honestly, it doesn't sound like you have that much going for you.

OR! WAIT! Or you could run off to the circus and become a mime! I hear they have a grand ol' time and they don't have to speak so you'd be safe from further humiliation! Yes, let's go with THAT answer instead.

Best of luck to you, let me know what you decide.

Lord Elrond

P.S. Cremate your father and put him in a nice little urn around your neck; it's a great conversation starter.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Daer Elronnd!1!!,

Hi i'm mariel suevien lol!1 and i'M in luv wif Leggi but he keeps runnin away  
frm mee! sEZ he dusn't udnerstand my langauge lolz n i getta teh impreshun he  
duzn't lyk me cuz he screms evry time he sEes me!123! how canna I get him to  
luv me hlp plz?

mariel suevien xx

***

_Lord Elrond was in a state of mild shock after viewing this letter and was forced to take a giant sip of wine and lay on my bed with a cool washcloth on his forehead before continuing. _

Dear Mary Sue,

You disgust me. Please cease your shameless flirting and stalking of Legolas; he is NOT going to fall in love with you. Legolas is over 3,000 years old and you are barely a teenager. Therefore, you have absolutely NO hope of EVER having a chance with him.

Kindly return to your own country, take off that ridiculous makeup and get an education. Maybe then you'll be suitable to speak to the crowned Prince of Greenwood.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by tchb_

Dear Elrond,

I have need of your opinion. I know you won't let me beat your twin sons, but perhaps you can help me come up with another way to make their lives miserable? I've tried sentencing them to hours in the library and all they've managed to do is destroy ancient and priceless scrolls; they also managed to turn my hair bright purple. Let me know if you can come up with anything.

I was going to ask you how to get back at Lord Glorfindel for aiding them, but I realized you never told me I couldn't beat _him _up_._

Sincerely,  
Lord Erestor

***

Dear Erestor,

They've done _what _to your hair? Though I can't reconsider my reservations about having you beat the living crap out of my twin sons, you may challenge them to a duel. There is no way in Middle Earth they will win against you, and that will probably increase their respect for you.

Or you could swap all of their water with wine, get them completely smashed and then convince them to cut off all of their hair. I care not which option you choose.

Unfortunately, I do not think we two are fast enough to beat Glorfindel. However, he is quite proud of his shiny golden hair; perhaps we should take a leaf out of Elladan and Elrohir's book?

We'll meet soon.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Middle-Earth Muggle. Legolas in normal print, Aragorn in __**bold.**_

Dear Elrond,

After a recent excursion boogie-boarding the internet **it's called surfing the net **yes, well, whatever. Estel and I were surfing the net and happened upon this strange little site called FFN. Just for fun, we typed in our names, **like you do all the time on Google and Wikipedia, **and to our horror **and disgust **_thousands _of stories about Estel and I doing the most horrible **and disgusting **things to each other! I'm sure you know that Estel is like my brother **and Legolas is mine **and the thought of doing...that…to him is absolutely **ridiculous. And disgusting.**

What can we do to stop this **ridiculousness? **Right. Will you help us?

Sincerely,

Legolas and Aragorn

***

Legolas and Aragorn,

Ah, it seems you've come across the _slash _community, which, unfortunately, is impossible to stifle. They are _convinced _that we elves (and the attractive men, it seems) all want to make hot, sweaty love to one another. Your best bet is to turn off the computer and stop going around hugging one another all the time. You won't be able to stop them, but you can at least stop encouraging them.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know my kind and your kind haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately, but I'd like to ask for your help anyways. You see, while on this crazy quest that you insisted I take, I met up with Lady Galadriel (and, let me just say, that she gave me some serious doubts about my hatred of elves, something you and your twin sons certainly haven't been able to accomplish!) Anyways, she gave me three hairs from her beautiful head, but after the fight with the Uruk-hai, I've lost those precious strands.

I understand you're rather close with the Lady Galadriel (she's your mother-in-law? Lucky bastard.) and I was hoping you could get some more golden locks upon my return. Thanks.

Gimli, son of Glóin

***

Dear Gimli,

Er, I suppose I could get some of her hair for you…though, I'm at a loss as to how I'm going to ask for them…

Lord Elrond

P.S. Having her as a mother-in-law was no easy feat, I assure you. It's impossible to describe the humiliation when your in-laws know exactly what you'd like to be doing with their daughter instead of dining with them.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I have a dilemma that I need your wise council on. You see, the Fellowship recently left Lothlórien and each were presented with a gift. The creepy-stalker dwarf Gimli asked for a few strands of my hair. I gave them to him (what else was I supposed to do?) but I'm afraid I may have encouraged his scary behavior. If you see him before I do, could you please attempt to convey that I'm not interested in him? Thanks so much.

Lady Galadriel

P.S. Having me as an in-law can't have been _that _scary; it was your own fault if you were thinking naughty things at dinner. You're quite handsome when you blush, though.

***

Dear Galadriel,

You're right—Gimli has turned into quite the scary fangirl. I'll put an end to it, don't you worry.

I'm not even going to ask how you know about Gimli's letter, but I'd like to say that in my defense that it was all Celebrían's fault. All of it.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: *grins wolfishly* One free chocolate-covered elf for those who review! You get to choose which one (I have a catalogue around here somewhere…) and the elf will be delivered in 3-5 business days, just pay shipping and handling.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hate Mondays.**

**On a happier note, because all of my reviewers are completely made of awesome, this chapter is quite a bit longer. If you guys keep this up I'm not going to have to write any more letters to Elrond!**

**Oh, and to those who received chocolate-covered elves in the mail, they're due back six days after you get them in the mail. We have plenty to go around, folks, but you all seem to choose the same three elves…They don't NEED to be clean when you mail them back, but it's preferable. Thank you!**

* * *

_*~*Ask Lord Elrond any and all of your most personal questions! Go on, it's easy! Just slip your anonymous letter in the box stationed outside of his office and expect a reply within the week. No tampering with other's letters, please (this means you, Elladan and Elrohir!!)*~*_

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix _

Dear Elrond

You may know me as the Ring that you heartlessly sentenced to death, back when I had little-to-no control over the halfling known as Frodo (who is writing this letter for me, as I have no hands). I wanted to inform you that the next man (or woman) who falls under my thrall will be a lawyer, so that I may sue you for all that you're worth.

Alternatively, you can simply call off this ridiculous quest to cast me back into my father's own personal volcano, and we can call it even.

Sincerely,  
One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear the One Ring,

It worries me that you have thoughts like this. I'm making a mental note to warn Frodo. Until my message gets through to him, though, let me make it clear that we have absolutely nothing against you _personally_, just everything you stand for and represent. And you aren't even that pretty to look at. I mean, honestly, a thick gold band with glowing letters on it? How gaudy.

As for the lawyers and/or calling off the quest…bring it on, bitch. I have connections you can't even imagine in your wildest dreams.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen _

Dear Elrond (or shall I call you Troublemaker?)

What in the name of Arda, Aman and Topeka were you thinking, letting my *coughidiotcough* heir and only son head off into the hinterlands with two men, four hobbits, a nutcase wizard and a dwarf?! A DWARF?? I mean...come on now!

You know I shall have to demand compensation if that little tea-party you put together runs into trouble, don't you? Which of those (idiots) sons of yours do you wish to donate to the Greenwood? I know it will mean a huge re-education for the poor lad, but you've got two of em, and I need one.

Figure it out and ship him over, or I'm coming to get him myself.

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (and ready to recruit spiders and order them  
to infiltrate your realm if you don't cooperate!)

***

Dear Thranduil,

As I've mentioned to your son several times, I am in no way in control of his actions. That being said…it was all his fault. The dwarf was a necessary asset to the Fellowship; after all, without him there is hardly any comic relief in the screen play and Peter Jackson needed an easy out.

At the moment I would willingly give you both of my sons—two-for-one, you see?—but I know that my wife would be furious and I would most likely regret it tomorrow morning. So, you may have neither of my sons (until further notice) but you may have Lord Glorfindel. He is quite handsome if I do say so myself, would need no further training, and even has your luscious blond locks; a perfect supplement, I'd say.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond,

After agreeing (foolishly) to join the Fellowship and following them faithfully as far as I could go on limited rations (no sugar cubes anywhere!), I have found to my horror that I am being ABANDONED outside of Moria! And there are wargs nearby! The smelly ranger insists I know my way back home, but err…. He must have forgotten to give me the map!

Please send a copy via Giant Eagle Couriers ASAP or I fear I'll end up as orc soup.

Bill the Pony

***

_Lord Elrond, who is sitting on my lap, trying to commandeer the computer keyboard, thought it silly to reply to this e-mail since it is to a pony. Nevertheless, under my careful urgings, he agreed to draft this response:_

Dear Bill,

You're right; you really are underappreciated in this story. I've sent a copy of a map of Middle Earth (and inside the package is a nice little surprise for you!) along with this message and I assure you that once you return you will be treated as an honored guest in the House of Elrond.

It was probably better that you didn't go into those mines; you didn't want to fight goblins, orcs, and a Balrog, did you? No, I didn't think so. Count the small blessings, Bill; appreciate the little things in life.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Mageia_

Dear Elrond,

We hurts! It was stolen from us! And now we runs around nasty orc-infested Mordor and watch as nice rabbitses get ruined! And what do we get? Fat hobbitses beats us and yells at us and we gets nothing to eat! And still no precious! I must get the precious! How can we get the precious? Help us great lord!

Smeagol

P.S. could great Elven lord please tell the elveses not to make their ropeses  
burn so much? It burns us and it freezes us.

***

Dear Gollum, er, Smeagol

I, er, well, I don't exactly know how to reply to your request…I suppose your best bet is to, er, relinquish all of your power and do whatever Frodo tells you. Yes, do everything he commands and as soon as he goes whacko listen to whatever Samwise tells you. That's the only way to get the, er, precious.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

This may not seem unusual, but I have a stalker who is more persistent than most - she insists that she does have an education and pours out the most revolting poetry every time she sees me. As it is quite undignified to run up the nearest tree when she heaves in sight I was wondering if you have any…better alternatives.

Yours,  
a very distressed Legolas

P.S. Her name appears to be 'Mariel Suevien'. I am quite certain she is a human teenager yet she tries to tell me she is twenty-two. Oh, and she tried to convince me that we should--'get together,' I think is how she put it--based on mutual connections. I take it she has written to you sometime in the past. My sympathies.

***

Dear Legolas,

I am most sorry, that is truly unfortunate. She has indeed written to me…it was an interesting letter, to say the least. It appears she may be dedicated but is also hopelessly dim, so I have no doubt you shall be able to outsmart her. Have you tried contacting Orlando Bloom? Or possibly Viggo Mortenson? Well, if those plans fall through, you could always pretend to like her, take her on the quest and throw her in the volcano with the ring…

Or you could put up with her advances until she dies; she is a mortal after all, they all have to kick the bucket sooner or later.

Lord Elrond

P.S. Your father is very angry with both you and myself for sending you on this trip. Would it kill you to call home once and a while?

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I noticed you didn't meet me at our trysting spot. I was very disappointed: I wore my special blue gown I saw you admiring from afar one evening. Never matter, though, my heartbreak can very easily be remedied if you promise to meet me in the Hall of Fire Wednesday evening, in front of the stage? Lovely. I'll see you there.

Love,

Mirror Image

P.S. I've met a lovely young woman who seems to know you, Mariel Suevien was her name. She's given me excellent tips once we finally meet—I'm so excited!

***

Dear Mirror Image,

I don't know who you are or what you're planning, but I have a longbow and I'm not afraid to use it.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Listen, I understand you're just doing your job and all that, protecting family friends and what not…but I really don't appreciate you telling Legolas to send his fangirls my way. I have _plenty _of my own thankyouverymuch and frankly I can't handle the extras. If you could please cease and desist the transporting of American teenager girls from Middle Earth to Britain I would really appreciate it, as would, I imagine, the Prime Minister.

Thanks,

Orlando Bloom

* * *

**A/N: That's all for tonight, folks. There are several letters already for the next chapter that have been submitted (I **_**did **_**want to put a few of my own in here, after all) so if you just wait patiently like good little readers you'll see them shortly.**

**I've noticed, as I've been creeping your bios and stories, that several of my most faithful readers (you know who you are :D) seem to know each other? Is that just a coincidence or is there some inner-circle of fandom that I need to get involved with?**

**The chocolate-covered elves were a hit; how about each reviewer gets an elf of their choice with ice cream and cool whip? They come in four tasty flavors (chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and lembas) and sprinkles and cherries can be added for an additional cost (aka another review). **


	6. Chapter 6

**This story's responses and reviews have absolutely dumbfounded me. I had **_**no **_**idea this story would be so successful and I can't tell you how happy it makes me :) Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart.**

**Seriously though, guys, this is getting ridiculous. If I sent you a Dessert Elf, You NEED to return them. What else can I promise at the end of the chapter if I don't have elves to dip in caramel sauce?! **

* * *

_Idea submitted by Mirach_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I want to complain about the behavior of a certain elleth, whose name I won't publish, in case of possible bias caused by family relationships. Not only does she keep stealing my scenes, but has borrowed my horse without my permission and spoiled him by giving him too many apples. Now he refuses to obey me without a treat. What should I do to prevent further similar incidents?

With deepest regards,  
ShinyHair

***

Dear Glorfindel (you really need to get over that hair fetish of yours),

I think Arwen was just tired of sitting around, drinking tea and doing needlepoint all day. Cut her some slack! The girl needs a little adventure! You got to be a warrior, fight in countless battles and be your sexy little self for thousands of years; can't you just give it up for _one _scene?!

Still, though, to prevent further incidents, you could simply be a twice-born Balrog slayer warrior lord of Imladris. Oh, wait. You _already are. _Okay, just so we're clear on that.

Come round for tea later, I'm feeling the need to get sloshed.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by anonymous HT_

Dear Elrond,

Some millennia ago I accepted a ring from this clever guy who was hanging around with the elves. Since then I have found myself riding a black horse with these other creepy guys and wearing black robes. Black is_ so_ not my color! To date someone has tried to set fire to me on Weathertop, and then this elf chick (or was it a blond guy? I'm a little mixed up about this) tried to drown me. Is it just me being paranoid or are they out to get me?

Third Nazgul from the left (AKA King something or other - I forget now)

***

Dear King asldfjl;jf,

I think you're just being paranoid. All of these instances are completely in your imagination. No one is out to destroy you and everything you stand for! Of course not! Now, just gather up your eight companions and return to Mordor where you belong. Soon, a nice little group of random species is going to come and visit you; there might be a loud noise and bright flash of light after their arrival, but please think nothing of this, as it is merely a cheap movie special effect.

Lord Elrond

P.S. I personally think it would be wonderful if you Nazguls changed from black to either hot pink or chartreuse. A little color would liven up Middle Earth and really bring out your eyes!

* * *

Dear Elrond,

The threatening of my life in your last letter is worrisome to me; is that how you're going to be once we're married? I will always love you, but I don't really want to have to pay for spousal abuse therapy.

Mirror Image

***

Dear Mirror Image,

There is something truly frightening about you. Against my better judgment I have responded to your previous letters, and I am alerting you now that this will immediately cease and desist.

Lord Elrond

P.S. And if I find out that this really _was _Elladan and Elrohir all along, you two won't be able to sit down for a week.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Vanime_

Elrond,

Do you need a library assistant? I want so much to be a lore master like you. (And if not your assistant then maybe assistant to Erestor, who can teach me if you have not the time?) I'd be a hard worker, and can do a lot of different tasks. In real life, I am an administrator - which really means Glorified Jack of All Trades Multi-tasker. So I think I can adapt to life in Imladris. Oh, and I would love to be a half-Elven too. Can Gandalf do a spell? I am sure making me full Elven would be way too complicated to even get into.

Vanime

PS. Just because I can multi-task doesn't mean or in any way imply that I want to go on the quest with the boys. I'd just as soon help Erestor with your sons or Glorfindel. (Heck, if you can get me Glorfindel, I'll go on any quest!)

***

Dear Vanime,

Er, I actually think that Erestor _is _in need of a library assistant…but I would heavily advice against this. I really don't think you know what you're getting into when you volunteered for that.

Making half-elves is not something I think Gandalf specializes in, but dear little labradorite might know a few things. Perhaps you should ask her?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by _Aearwen22

Dear Cheapskate (aka "Elrond Half-baked")

OK. So my *cough*fool*cough* of a son has called me a few times to let me know he's all right - the last time from some obscure hole-in-the-wall called "Helm's Deep". (Those Rohirrim could really use some Elven creativity with their place-names, dontcha think?) I guess I won't send out that contingent of spiders I had picked out especially for touring your fine realm. You lucked out. This time.

But why, in the name of Galadriel's underwear, couldn't you have supplied him with a prepaid cell phone, like you did those hobbit creatures? Roaming charges around Middle-earth these days are dirt cheap. Even the Dwarf has mobile-to-mobile, I hear. But NO, you had to force him to borrow other people's landlines to make COLLECT calls! But what really tweaks my twigs is that he keeps reversing the charges - something about this is what YOU told him to do.

What do you think I'm made of - money? I'm enclosing my latest M-eGlobal bill - this is all your fault, so YOU pay it!

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (woefully short on greenbacks)

***

Dear Thranduil,

Let me make something clear for the record: I DID give your stupid son a cell phone! It is NOT my fault if he is unable to care for expensive items for longer than fifteen minutes. I would venture to guess that he lost it in the snow, for even though he can walk on top of it he still manages to stumble and fall.

And, in my defense, it seemed polite for the elf who is attempting to save Middle Earth not to have to pay for his collect calls! Honestly, Thranduil, just because you're a king doesn't mean we can extend a little common courtesy from time to time. And by Legolas using landlines he is further bonding with the people of Rohan and probably brightening their day—he's quite foxy, as I'm sure you know.

I'll pay for the bill _THIS ONCE_, but never again.

Lord Elrond

P.S. Please leave Galadriel's underwear out of this. She IS my mother-in-law, after all.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dearr Elrond,  
MOMG how could ya nott tell mi that you knew my frnd mirra imaj!!! lmao like  
she's so awesome lol1! an Actually i DO hav an edcuaition - see my spilling's  
just fine thnx11!4 so dnt be so insluting!

mariel suevien xoxoxo

***

_Lord Elrond burst into tears after viewing this letter, so he is off in the corner being consoled by his wife. In his absence, Haldír has taken over the keyboard._

Dear Mary Sue,

Please, for all of our sakes, go play in traffic.

Love, Haldír

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

I did as you suggested but Orlando Bloom does not appreciate having my fangirls running around after him - I suppose he has informed you of this. And Mariel Suevien is still stalking me with her bad verses. I am beginning to consider having a pet spider that will devour the foul creature. What can I do to make peace with Orlando?

Yours in even more distress,

Legolas

P.S. Actually, it _will_ kill me to call home once in a while, as the road home has become quite perilous in recent times. I've been using landlines like you suggested if I lost my cell (I think I dropped it in the snow…did you know that cell phones don't like water?) so he can't complain _too _loudly. Yes, I know Ada is furious - but if he keeps on insisting that I risk my life to return to Mirkwood then tell him he can have one of my fangirls.

***

Legolas,

I would not suggest telling your father you are going to give him one of your fangirls, as I'm sure it would make him quite upset and that man simply has enough worry lines as it is.

Orlando, I realized, probably has many of his own fangirls that bother him (and for Eru's sake, the island of Great Britain has enough to worry about without sending crazed American teenagers over there) but I would recommend giving some of those fangirls to Harry Potter. That poor boy needs to get laid.

As for Mariel Suevien: I think you, Glorfindel, Haldír, the twins, Celeborn, Estel and I should go out together. It's time to hunt some wabbits.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond

I think you should be warned. There is an author going around who wants to cover your elves in chocolate and post them out to rabid fangirls (or possibly fan boys - this is the 4th age after all!). To prevent this happening I suggest you send me all the chocolate you can find and I will ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. It will be a big sacrifice but if I have to I will eat the lot to save all Elvendom from a fate worse than death.

Regards

HT

***

Dear HT,

Yes, I've seen what little Miss labradorite has been trying to do with my kin, and trust me when I say I've already attempted to put a stop to it. Unfortunately, she currently has both myself and Glorfindel tied to her bed, showing me exactly _what _she meant by chocolate covered elves. (And I'm a little frightened.)

As soon as humanly possible I will rescue the Elves from their fangirl (or boy, yes) masters and return them where they belong…though I really can't make any promises. (I'm so sorry, Legolas!)

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by tchb_

Dear Elrond,

I am having trouble on staying true to your daughter's heart, since now I have been hanging around this Rohan shield maiden. Her hair is so blonde and beautiful! Who should I pick? Arwen or Éowyn? Please, Ada I need your help!

Estel

***

Dear Estel,

If you ever say anything like that ever again, I'm going to skin you alive and make someone wear you down the aisle. We are not playing games. I've given up all of my dignity, dammit, you're marrying my daughter.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know it is sort of strange to be writing to you, as we are in very different stories, but my issue concerns one of your fellow Elves. You see, I was recently lunching with Orlando Bloom, and he happened to mentioned that Legolas was having some trouble with fangirls. Now, I'm no expert, but it seems to me that the three of us look extremely alike, and shortly after that lunch I've found myself completely hounded by fourteen-year-old girls screaming "LEGGIE!!! LEGGIE!!" at the top of their lungs.

I would appreciate an explanation as soon as possible. Thank you.

Will Turner

***

_Lord Elrond was laughing too hard to be able to reply to this message. Please stand by._

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I hate you.

Love, Harry Potter

* * *

**A/N: I'm really shooting these chapters out, aren't I? I'm so proud of myself. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, especially those who are returning readers. I'm running out of Elf desserts (and yes, Rangers are also available). How about reviewers get the elf of your choice that comes with a free coupon for Coldstone? **


	7. Chapter 7

**I didn't think it was possible to get MORE feedback and reviews than I was already getting, yet I had more alerts and e-mails from last chapter than all of the others… O_O you guys are A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.**

**You know you write too much LOTR fanfiction when Microsoft word automatically corrects Luthien to Lúthien and Glorfindle to Glorfindel.**

**Oh, and I've been told I should put a warning at the top of these chapters: please refrain from consuming liquids while reading this story. Thank you.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

In an effort to stay my coming demise, I have diverted from canon and abandoned the Halfling. Unfortunately, I did not take into account the foul wretch Gollum, who immediately snatched me up from the ground as I attempted to flee.

I would like you to know that I hold you personally responsible for this turn of events, as if I'd just been left in peace to corrupt the previously mentioned Halfling's mind, none of this would have happened.

That being said, a little assistance would be appreciated. I believe we're somewhere near Shelob's cave, but I can't be certain as Gollum's constant dancing about has left me a tad disoriented. Again, assistance would appreciated; I'm not sure how much longer I can tolerate Gollum talking to--and--about himself. If this goes on much longer I won't be responsible for my actions.

Despairingly  
One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear One Ring,

Well, maybe if you had rolled faster this wouldn't have happened. Listen, I can't offer you a Halfling but I _can _let you try to corrupt a fangirl. Willingly, in fact. Take your pick, we have plenty to spare should you accidentally kill them.

I am more than willing to take full responsibility for such "unfortunate" events and will send out a search party to retrieve you immediately. Please stand by.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I've done something stupid. You see, I was fighting this kid Luke and it was just getting intense when we started shouting at each other. Now, you know how fights like that go; first they say something that makes you angry, and then you reply and really wish you hadn't said it…

Well…I accidentally told this kid I was his father, when in fact I'm…not. His mother (who, along with her husband, are dead now) and I did date for a while, but it ended before it got too serious. I've always imagined what it would be like to have married her and fathered this child (he's really quite a sweetie, he would have been much more evil had I raised him) and I guess I just got wrapped up in the old feelings I had for his dead mom.

Well, anyways. What should I do? He seemed upset after I told him, but then again taking a statement like that back is a pretty emotional thing.

Darth Vader

***

Dear Darth Vader

That really _was_ stupid. You should be ashamed of yourself. But, nevertheless, you should tell him you were wrong and try to apologize. You mentioned his parents were dead? Perhaps you could become his foster father (it really is quite rewarding. You don't have any immortal daughters, do you? If so I would advise against this.) and really get to know Luke before it's too late.

Best of luck to you!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Master Elrond,

I regret to inform you that the scroll of the Lay of Lúthien is missing from the archives. Last I saw it, Estel was reading it with enthusiasm and practicing how he pronounced Tinuviel. Also, I found something that appears to be a ladies undergarment in a darkened alcove of the library. As Arwen has recently returned from Lórien, and is currently the only one (that I am aware of at least) (Thank Eru) to wear such...skimpy attire, I thought you should be made aware. I should also mention Estel was last seen in the library as well. I do not wish to jump to hasty conclusions, but the evidence is not weighing in his favor.

On the other hand, I also passed Lord Glorfindel in the corridor outside the library last evening when I left. Is it possible _he_ has taken to wearing thongs?

Sincerely,  
Erestor

***

Dear Erestor

Unfortunately, it is _definitely _possible that Glorfindel has taken to wearing thongs, but we won't get into that.

I shall have to have a talk with my foster son. If _I _won't be sleeping tonight, _he _won't be. Thank you for passing along this message, and I'll be sure to tell him who did.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear labradorite,

Please make me half-Elven so I can work in Imladris with Erestor? I really don't mind hard work if I love it. (I love books - I used to be standing in the bookstore for hours at the mall when I was much younger; so much so, my parents had to drag me out of the store begging for another 5 minutes!)

Pretty, pretty please? I won't even ask for an elf in chocolate or anything else thereof.

Very sincerely, a devoted fan of this story and so looking forward to your reply as well,  
Vanime18431

***

_Lord Elrond graciously allowed labradorite to draft her reply to his letter, though he was fuming a bit at not being mentioned. _

Dear Vanime,

The only way for us to turn into Elves (full ones, at that!) is to kidnap one, drizzle them in chocolate and have our way with them. I suggest we begin immediately.

Or you can take the Mary Sue route and turn into an elf after you've transported yourself to Middle Earth. I care not which you choose, but I'm going to partake in the first right now.

Thanks for your letter!

labradorite

P.S. I've told Erestor about your request and he is quite enthusiastic about it. Particularly the part where he has more free time to torment the twins and Glorfindel.

P.P.S. Elrond likes to pretend to be outraged at how we cover our elves in dessert sauces, but he secretly likes it. Don't let him fool you for an instant.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I apologize for the condition of the letter that I sent. You see, I am stuck in Rohan's dungeon and the only paper that I had available was this piece of toilet paper that was stuck to the bottom of a chamber pot used by an old man with colon cancer who was just sentenced to death yesterday.

The reason why I am writing is that I have an uncle who is the king of Rohan and ever since he hired Wormtongue to be his advisor, his health has been deteriorating and his wits are leaving him. When I suggested that Wormtongue take a long walk into an ambush of horsemen that I set up, I got thrown in prison. Do you have any suggestions on how I should kill, or at least get rid of, that wicked snake so that Théoden can get healthy again?

Thank you and once again I apologize for the letter. I hope that you will respond so that I can use the back of your paper for other messages.

Éomer of the Mark

***

Dear Éomer,

This letter is quite disgusting, you're correct.

I'm going to send my son, Estel, Legolas of Greenwood, and Gimli, son of Glóin into Rohan (they'll be looking for two hobbits, but the circumstances of their visit isn't important). Then, they'll run into Fangorn and bump ways with Gandalf (who has had a drastic color switch as of late) and from there they'll make their way to Rohan, where they'll save your uncle.

I've had this planned out for ages; don't worry, you're in safe hands.

I do hope your conditions improve,

Lord Elrond

P.S. Burning that piece of paper was a very bad idea. Now my entire office reeks.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen22_

Dear Elrond,

Yes. I know. My son is a klutz. (He gets it from his mother's side, I swear.) Why do you think that he has those knives of his mounted on his back, up with his quiver? Have you ever seen anybody get tripped up by their own sword? Well, multiply that by two. The idiot couldn't even walk three feet without landing face-down in the dust. And YOU gave someone who can't walk and chew gum at the same time a dinky little cell phone (probably not even affixed to a chain to wear around his neck) and expected him not to lose it?? Did you learn nothing from YOUR two monsters?

By the way, I've had a sudden influx of extremely young ladies from the US, demanding to be let into "Leggie's" bedroom, to steal and sniff at his underwear, and all other manner of weird things. For what it's worth, I'm keeping the really cute ones for myself - Royal prerogative, dontcha know, gotta show them what a REAL Elf is all about - but you tell that Harry Potter that Mirkwood isn't the Fangirl Garbage Disposal System. If he thought those Dementors were bad, he doesn't want me to ship him some spiders by return post!

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (Eat your heart out! They're all mine! YEE-HAW!)

***

Dear Thranduil,

Sometimes I wonder why your son has even bothered to _become _an heir, let alone why you're so eager for his return. He can't be that great of a prince, tripping over his robes all the time, bouncing into walls and generally making a fool of himself.

Yes, I did in fact expect an elf of over 3,000 years to manage to keep a small object on his person for longer than ten minutes. How astonishingly foolish of me.

I'll pass on your message to Harry Potter (though I don't exactly know where he is at the moment. We aren't exactly on the best terms) and I'm sure he'll, er, apologize. Please be aware that in general the age of consent in America is 16, and many of these young women are barely teenagers. That being said, if you wouldn't mind just letting them have a few of your sons possessions (he won't be back for ages anyway, does it really matter?) maybe they would be satisfied and leave poor Middle Earth alone.

And, for Eru's sake, would it kill you to send an e-mail instead of wasting all of this parchment? You're the one that instigated that ridiculous "going green" movement.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

We're fighting, but I was wondering if you could pass along to Darth Vader that if Luke doesn't want him for a father, I'll take him.

Thanks,

Harry Potter

* * *

**A/N: When I typed "Fangorn" it corrected it to "fangirl." *headdesk* I am all kinds of sad.**

**I officially need all of my elves (and rangers…and hobbits, too) back, please. That way I can offer you my next plea for reviews: Elves/Rangers/Hobbits dressed in black leather and willing to do anything. Mmmmmm.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Apparently the leather-clad elves were a hit! I've run out of ideas of what I can offer you all for reviews, so you might just have to pick something yourself. What a shame.

* * *

**_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

derr Haldeerr

Y would i want to go play in tRaffik? i wanna play in a room wif Leggie! an Will Turner! And Paris! anD orli lolz and u!123!! an when I get ya an leggi we can hava 3sum an –

***

_Haldír was severely disturbed by this. The rest of the message has been censored for your mental protection. However, labradorite had no such problems responding._

Dear Mary Sue,

I think it would be better for you to graduate middle school before having sex, but that's just me. And, as someone who you should really be afraid of, stop harassing my elves of I'm going to send one of Thranduil's spiders to your house where they will EAT YOUR FACE.

Have a nice day!

labradorite

* * *

Dear Elrond

I think you need to have a little talk with labradorite. She seems not to know how elves are made and claims to be running out of them. I know they take a while to ripen but it is well worth the wait. Could you explain to her that to get more elves she needs two mature elves (preferably one of each gender although in fandom this is not always the case!) and then a romantic setting some wine and away you go. More details of the process can be found on any fan-fiction site although she should be warned that some of the stories can be a bit...explicit. Do you think you could have a quiet word in her shell-like?

Love, HT

P.S. If you are really short on elves but have too may Rangers handing around I would be glad to help out. Same as for the chocolate but I probably wouldn't eat the Rangers...well not all at once anyway.

***

Dear HT,

Please don't eat the Rangers; we need them to protect the north for us.

As labradorite is currently living in a household of elves (I swear I had nothing to do with this. They simply wanted to join in on the fun) she tells me she may have a better idea of how elves are made wink wink.

**You're supposed to **_**actually **_**wink, not say it. **Well, I'm writing a letter; how can I _actually _do it? **You **_**pretend **_**to. **Why would I bother pretending to wink? HT can't see me. **No, you just—never mind. You're hopeless. **I am not, take it back!

**Elves do indeed take a while to ripen; several centuries, in fact. Do **_**you **_**want to wait that long? I didn't think so. Besides, I'm not willing to spare any more of my elves. **It would be well worth the wait! And we don't belong to you. **Shut up, we're not talking to you. You just want us to stop drizzling elves with yummy ice cream toppings. …**True.

**labradorite **(and Elrond!!) **yes. And Elrond…*mutters* greedy little---**

* * *

_Idea submitted by _Dínelleth

Dear Lord Elrond,

Why do I suddenly have fourteen-year-old American girls...er...maidens screaming "LEGGIE!!! LEGGIE!!!" at the top of their lungs at me?

Who or what the _hell_ is a Leggie?

Balian ~ Kingdom of Heaven

***

Dear Balian,

A "Leggie" is something you needn't concern yourself with, but I do apologize for the screaming maidens (though they hardly deserve to be called as such). Please go and speak with Orlando Bloom and/or Will Turner and/or Paris of Troy to clear up any questions you have.

Have a pleasant evening!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know that our races are at war with one another, but as my people used to be of your people I was hoping you would take my letter into consideration.

I'm an orc, yes, but that doesn't mean I don't have a life. One of your little warriors shot me in the face and, though I was trying to kill him, I see absolutely justification for this. I mean, he could have killed me! I thought you had safeties on those bows! Please train your warriors better, as it's getting quite tiresome cleaning up after them.

Thanks,

LastOrcStanding

***

Dear Orc,

Er, I believe he _was _trying to kill you; that was the point.

Lord Elrond

_Lord Elrond saw no point in trying to communicate with an orc, as he was probably already dead and, after all, an orc._

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond (Or whatever your real name is)

I'm not pointing any fingers, but I came across one of your letters to Harry the other day, and as much of it made no sense to me, I have to assume it was some sort of code. As I said, I'm not making any accusations, but ever since Harry started receiving these letters, he's been spending less time with me and the children.

Kindly cease and desist with your correspondence so that I can have my husband back. This is your first and only warning.

Ginny Potter

***

Dear Ginny,

What your husband does with his free time is of absolutely no importance to me, let alone do I know what he has been doing. Our letters were, sadly, exactly what they seemed, and I apologize for your husband's stupidity.

If you "want your husband back" I would suggest calling up Jack Sparrow (Captain, sorry) and talking with him, as it seems Harry has been spending a majority of his time pillaging with pirates.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Vanime18431_

Dear Lord Elrond and labradorite,

Well, if having an elf in chocolate is the only way to become an elf, then make it so! I will have any elf that you happen to have at your disposal to make this happen. However, I don't wish to have Legolas in chocolate. Not that he wouldn't be wonderful - but I do think the poor boy has enough going on don't you think?

Thank Eru, I don't become a Mary Sue - I am really horrified at that thought!

Please also accept my humble apologies, Lord Elrond, for not mentioning you to labradorite. I thought I had done so...please let me take on some of your work load to give you and the lovely Lady Celebrían a week off for some together time?? Will that be recompense enough?

I may well regret saying that, but I will do anything to work in your beautiful library.

Most sincerely,  
Vanime

P.S. Does it matter what kind of elf it is that makes one into an elf? I would imagine that a half-elf in chocolate would make me half-Elven?? Or does it not matter? Most curious...

P.P.S Perhaps to alleviate the situation regarding the King of Eryn Lasgalen, perhaps I should have him in covered in chocolate?? I'd rather have Glorfindel, but oh well, one must sacrifice, mustn't one??

P.P.P.S Although if you should give me Glorfindel in chocolate I could find out if he does indeed wear thongs.

***

Dear Vanime,

If I'm not mistaken labradorite has already sent your elf through the mail, and she says you should receive him shortly. I do not know which elf she chose, but as Legolas and Glorfindel are both sitting next to me, I doubt it is either of them. My sons are missing, though, which is rather worrisome. I do hope for your sake that they are simply watching T.V.

I would not give up my work for an instant, as I highly doubt anyone would be able to be Lord of Imladris without thousands of years of training and quite a bit of patience. However, my wife wants to drag me to the opera next weekend, and I'd really like a reason not to go. Could you possibly provide me with one of those?

Lord Elrond

P.S. Oh, and labradorite says she already found out that Glorfindel does indeed wear thongs (though I shudder at the thought) and I would not like to know how she knows this, so I'm going to just ignore it. Have a pleasant evening.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Master Elrond,

Gee, thanks a lot for letting Estel know just who turned him in. I just received a letter (delivered by a squirrel. Did you know Rangers use squirrel mail?) from him stating that thanks to me, you told him he's really Aragorn son of Arathorn, a lost king of Men and that he wasn't good enough for your daughter until such time as he takes over these lost kingdoms (one of which no longer exists), and you booted him out of Imladris under the guise of 'taking charge of his destiny.' And all because I found Glorfindel's thong in the library to boot! Just how was _I_ supposed to know that lacy scrap of fuchsia material was Glorfindel's? He usually wears green and gold! And there were DARK hairs found near them… well, let's not go into that, though it does bring into question whether or not Glorfindel is a natural blond.

And so, I am sorry to admit that I was mistaken about Estel and Arwen meeting in a clandestine and scandalous manner. However, I will not take responsibility for Estel being forced to write home via squirrels. I would never have said anything if I'd have known you could be so harsh to the poor boy. He's human, you know. He doesn't have our tolerance for sexual frustration.

On a side note, the Lay of Lúthien scroll is still missing. Please tell me you searched Estel's belongings before kicking him out….er, urging him to leave? There is secret code embedded in that scroll that is crucial to my future happiness.

Erestor

P.S. The silver robes so do not become you. You should return to wearing the burgundy or the navy blue.

P.P.S. Despite nasty rumors being spread by labradorite (do you think she has a thing for black dogs?), I am NOT thrilled at the prospect of having an elf-wanna-be working in MY Library! I'll never find anything again! Speaking of, I recently found some wild black haired boy with a strange scar on his head thumbing through all the scrolls and mumbling something about horcruxes. What in the name of Eru is a horcrux? And do you think we need to exterminate the Last Homely House?

***

Dear Erestor,

I would secretly love it if Glorfindel wasn't a natural blond, as he is utterly obsessed with those golden locks. We would have enough material to make fun of him for centuries.

I'm sorry that you feel I was harsh with Estel, but it was a conversation long in the coming and frankly I couldn't stand him making goo-goo eyes with Arwen any longer. That boy wants to marry into this family he has to _earn _it, dammit. He was _raised _by bloody elves! He should be able to keep his car out of the garage until the car _marries _the garage!!

labradorite here confessed to me that the pink thong was hers, though I do not know (nor do I care to) how Glorfindel came into possession of such an odd undergarment (would it give them any support at all? How strange.). So, I understand I may have jumped the gun a little bit, but whatever. What's done is done.

Lord Elrond

P.S. I'll check with Harry for the scroll—it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he had it, claiming Helma Hupplefluff (is that her name? I could never quite understand Harry when he said it) blew her nose on it or something and that Lord Voldey-whatsit put part of his soul into it.

Because of all this chaos, I think I'll call the exterminator next week.

P.P.S. Apparently labradorite does not in fact have a "thing" for black dogs, and her pen name (or so she tells me) is in fact the name of a very pretty semi-precious stone often found in Paul's Island near the town of Nain in Labrador, Canada. You should "gwoople" it, or whatever it's called. And she apologizes about the rumors and says she needs to sit down and have a talk with you soon.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

It's me, Mirror Image. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Your long, shiny brown hair. The way it glistens in the morning sun as I peer at you from my bedroom window inspires me to write epic poetry.

Your awesome footwear. For shoe selection, you get an A+!

Your deep, masculine voice. It takes all of my strength to not rip off my clothes and run at you each time you speak.

Your selection of Lords. With elves like Glorfindel running about, who needs a husband?

Your beautiful, billowing robes. If I didn't picture you _without _them so often, these would be my favorite part of your wardrobe.

Your wonderful nose. It's so pointy and cute, I just want to squeeze it.

Your fingernails. Clipped to half-moon perfection—nails any elleth would kill for!

Your sneeze. Each time you sneeze, it's like a fresh summer's wind greeting me from afar.

Your underarms. Like a red rose on a spring day—

_This continued in the same manner for so many pages that labradorite felt bad for posting it here. Please stand by._

***

_Before Lord Elrond could pick his jaw up off the floor, Glorfindel snatched the letter and read it aloud at the top of his lungs. He was then so overcome with a fit of giggles that it seemed unwise to continue._

* * *

**A/N: This might be a little late, but I've also been told to warn people not to eat while reading this story, either. Apparently there was an unfortunate incident with some popcorn *evil cackle***

**Ahem. Thank you for all of the lovely support, you guys rock! Keep the ideas and letters coming—I can hardly wait to see what snarky!Elrond will have to face next.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm sick :( which is why I didn't post yesterday. Sorry!**

**Warning: the consumption of any beverage or food is not permitted past this author's note. I take no responsibility for any choking or any public humiliation you might encounter while reading this fic. **

**I was going to do a funny disclaimer…but I couldn't think of anything…maybe later. Still, though, I don't own anything, even though I have all of the elves in my bed right now. **

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Elrond

I am having trouble with some dwarves, 7 of them to be exact. They expect me to do all the housework or get the forest creatures to help me. These bunnies, birds and other woodland creatures are not house trained so make more of a mess than ever. I noticed that, regardless of the fact that your Elven kin dislike dwarves, you still managed to hold council with them. Could you talk to them for me?

Regards  
Snow White

***

Dear Snow White (what a silly name. You should really go to city hall and change it)

I would suggest offering the dwarves different types of gems and stones…or perhaps to sharpen their axes for them (this is not a euphemism).

Or you could simply not do the work, but eat a poison apple and "die," while you wait for a price to come and snuggle you back to life. I care not which. You fairy tale princesses are all the same.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen22_

To: Half-wit at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatElvenKing at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Be careful what you ask for...

Dear Elrond,

OK. You want email, you get email. Never let it be said that the Great Elvenking of Eryn Galen can't take a hint. I'm guessing at YOUR address, though, since you've never shared, so it will be YOUR fault if this bounces back.

Yes, it would be nice if a 3,000 year old Elf could hang onto his possessions, scratch his head and rub his tummy at the same time, or so many other things. It's amazing the bad influence your *cough*degenerate*cough* sons have had on him. Not to mention that smelly Ranger-thing you've had hanging around the place for the last few decades. I know you have taste (somewhere other than your mouth, that is...) because after all, you have Glorfindel and his penchant for thongs and the entertainment value in Erestor's habit of cross-dressing... Oh. Yeah. I wasn't supposed to mention that.

Moving right along, then...

I'm really writing this to tell you one thing very plainly. If you think you can cover me in chocolate and ship me off to that reviewer Vanime, I'm gonna send more than spiders in your direction!!

Watch it, bubba.

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (seriously running out of patience -although not fangirls. YEE-HAW!)

P.S: You really should consider keeping a fangirl or two in your closet for yourself. Besides being great for the libido, you could frankly use the exercise.

P.P.S: The closet is best for keeping fangirls - after all, you don't want Celebrían catching on to your fun, do you?

P.P.P.S: Tell Erestor that he left his makeup kit here the last time he visited -just in case he wondered where the lipstick I bought him went.

***

To: Dumbass at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: AwesomeElf at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: I resent that.

My Dearest Snugglemuffin (for that is what I'm going to call you if you continue to address me as "half-wit")

Erestor says thank you; he has been missing that particular shade and had to replace it with one that wasn't quite right. And Celebrían and I share a closet, so your fangirl advice is rather pointless. That and I get plenty of exercise from both my wife and laughing at your offspring.

And I believe it was _you_ that first introduced Glorfindel to thongs, so I wouldn't be talking if I were you, mister.

I would like to defend myself. The stupid fan labradorite (she's scowling at me at this very moment, in fact) is the one promising to send my kin and yours to random reviewer's houses covered in chocolate and black leather. I have _nothing _to do with this, and if you think for a second that I can boss her around then you have obviously never played euchre with her.

On a happier note, Legolas tells me (through squirrel mail; did you know that squirrels deliver mail? We must consider investing in this.) that they're happily plucking around in Gondor now, and that he found his cell phone. Why he chose to reach me through squirrel mail while he had his phone, I'll never understand. Nevertheless, you now have a way to reach him.

Lord Elrond

P.S: If you insist on bothering me so and asking me to pay for your hopeless son's mistakes, then YOU, buddy, are going to be paying for my therapy. So put THAT in your pipe and smoke it.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Vanime18431_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Please tell dear labradorite that I said "Thank you", I can't wait to see which elf it is she sent me. If it is your sons, I promise not to hurt them, provided of course they don't hurt me.

Also let me reassure you that I don't want your job, (or Erestor's job), but that I merely wish to help you both in any way possible so that you may have more free time to do things you wish you had the time to do. Furthermore, if you or Erestor like things a certain way i.e.: filing papers, I promise I won't mess up his precious organization.

As for labradorite knowing that Glorfindel wears thongs, I am going to presume that it is an author's prerogative to know these things.

A reason not to go to an opera? Hmm, why not tell her the truth? Like, I don't know, it hurts your ears and it feels like torture - similar to running fingernails down a blackboard? (I know a lot of males would say that, as they'd rather be doing anything else other than going to the opera with their wives.) If she is looking for company, you can offer me in your place - I love opera! Say it is part of my education in learning of the ways of the Eldar, or something like that. If none of these work to your way of thinking, let me know and I will do my best to come up with others.

Have a lovely evening!

Sincerely,  
Vanime

***

Dear Vanime,

I've placed Erestor in charge of the employment of interns, so if you would e-mail him at BookWorm at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME, he'd be happy to take your questions and résumé.

When I showed labradorite this letter and she read your comment about author's prerogative, she snickered evilly and walked away. Make of that what you will.

I would most willingly send you in my place to the opera, yet something tells me Celebrían would _not _be amused by that idea. Still, thank you for the offer. This is something I must suffer alone.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by dinopoodle_

My dearest Elrond,

Someone I love is not paying enough attention to me. Now I find out that said person is not only unwilling to attend a simple opera with me, but he's asking complete strangers how to avoid this. I just want a little time to spend with my husband, but instead of relaxing bubble baths and deep, lengthy discussions about our feelings he's spending his time with some human girl and a bunch of letters. Not that I have anything against humans…but I have needs too.

Please do not forget who my family is, do you really want my Ada and Naneth mad at you? Or for that matter, me?

Awaiting a reply

Neglected

***

_Lord Elrond, instead of replying to this letter, blushed furiously and ran from the room, presumably to console his wife. Against my better judgment, I've let Haldír draft a response while Elrond was otherwise…occupied._

Dear Celebrían,

I love you, but I've decided that it is my fate to be with the young maiden named Mirror Image. I hope you can forgive me, she is just so sexy and wonderful, just like Haldír, and I think we're going to be very happy together (I assume, considering I've never met the woman). Anyways, I hope that—AHHHHLSFJJFLDES: ASDOJLZ;X CNLXZMKHFiudryowaefjSF: 3LSJDFL: SJDF: LSJDF: #P (U#$&) !

_Haldír was rudely interrupted by Elrond, who returned just in time. Please stand by._

* * *

_Idea submitted by Mageia_

Dear Elrond,

The strangest thing happened to me a couple of months ago. It seems that a fanfiction writer named Mageia spun me out of thin air and plopped me into Middle Earth, where I'd join the Fellowship. During that time, I had to put up with lascivious looks from the Fellowship and angry reviewers calling me a 'Mary Sue.' Also, the writer gifted me with a great intellect but the only thing that I actually do is point out random facts and date Frodo (who I still have no clear idea of who he is). I try to run away, but Mageia is always there writing where I go and it scares me. I just want to be left alone. Can't she understand that? Please help me.

Mageia's OC

***

Dear OC (or Mary Sue, as it were)

Your best bet is to just live with it. Once a fanfiction writer gets going, there's no stopping them *eyes labradorite warily, who grins*. It's easier to accept it, my dear. Best of luck to you; just be grateful you're not being drizzled with chocolate and sent off to strangers.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

I happened to meet Mariel Suevien on the road coming home last night and I knocked her out with the handle of my mace. What possessed me to do that, I do not know. I should have hit her with the spiky part. Silly me.

Anyway, I got a hold of your response to the little shit -- I mean, delightful girl's-- 'letter' and felt that having one of Thranduil's spiders eat Mariel's face was in fact a great idea and I decided to speed up the process myself. Thranduil gladly lent me a spider for the purpose but having eaten the despicable creature (I am talking about the Sue, by the way) the spider then proceeded to snap the lead I had him on and has now escaped.

Thranduil, needless to say, is pissed.

So, on one hand, Mariel Suevien is now gone for good - and Legolas was so happy he gave me a free hug. On the other hand, there is now an insane spider on the loose somewhere near Rivendell and an insane King of Mirkwood out to get me. If you could offer your sage advice on this point, I would be quite grateful.

Love,

Araloth the Random

***

Dear Araloth,

It makes me very nervous that there is a spider loose near Imladris, if only because I shudder to think what will happen if Elladan and Elrohir get a hold of it.

I cannot offer you any "sage advice" regarding that stupid king Thranduil because even _I _have difficulty dealing with him. You could punch him in the face next time you meet; I've found that is quite a good way to release your frustration.

Thank you very much for putting an end to Mariel Suevien, I cannot express my gratitude. Though Haldír is upset that he no longer has someone to harass. I'm sure there will be others, though, so if once you catch that spider you can hang onto him for a bit, I'd be ever so.

Good luck with the dumbass—I mean, Thranduil. I'll be awaiting the updates of your status.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

What the Udun? No, really - what the hell is going on with this whole 'Glorfindel wears pink thongs' business?! I am a Balrog slayer and I have been restored to life by the grace of the Valar - I don't wear _pink_ thongs!

I wear BLACK ones, dammit! Get it right, people!

Glorfindel

***

Glorfindel,

That would be labradorite spreading nasty rumors about you—she claims to have seen it firsthand…

But I assure you that no such G-string oversights will ever occur again.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know we've never spoken (and I'm truly sorry about that) but I'd like your advice, anyway. You gave such great advice to Sauron and I'd be much obliged if you would listen to my plight.

I'm in love with this chick, and she's really great. But I'm made of fire and am quite huge, so the possibility of this relationship working out is very slim. Still, I'd like to pursue her romantically. What is your advice on this?

Bobby the Balrog

P.S: Sorry about the burn marks on this letter, I tried my best not to singe it.

***

Dear, er, Bobby,

Just tell the girl how you feel. Then, she can make a rational decision on whether or not she wants to marry and fiery demon.

Lord Elrond

P.S: If she says "yes" please tell her to give me a call immediately.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all very much for the wonderful reviews and feedback—keep the hilarious letters coming!**

**For reviews this chapter, you all get TWO Elves!! (oooooh, aaaaaah) and with them you get a mud pit where they can wrestle. You see? And you guys say I never get you anything.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm sick, guys :( and I think the only thing that will make me feel better is some chocolate-covered elves and reviewer sympathy.**

**Oh, and good thing you reviewers are made of awesome.**

**Onward, brave soldiers!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Colonel UnderRoo_

Dear Elrond

I'm having issues with people not understanding my sense of humor. I sit here in school and read this fabulous piece of literature by labradorite and I laugh... a lot. But it seems my teachers don't understand the necessary nature of reading this. My sport teacher, for example, is not impressed with the fact that I choose reading this over writing about a concussion suffered by a rugby player. I try to explain that it is imperative to my health for me to laugh at least once a day (I'll go crazy otherwise) but they seem to think that it should be done on my own time instead of theirs. I think not.

So, I was wondering if you possibly have any Elves (or Rangers…heck even a Dwarf will do) who could help me "convince" said teachers of the necessity of reading this story. Or do you recommend that I take care of them myself...?

Thanks,  
Sawyer

P.S: Yes, by "take care" I do mean "get rid of"... Are we on the same page?

***

Dear Sawyer,

I've let labradorite write this letter, as you would most likely be unhappy with my response. Here, I'll pass her the keyboard.

**Right. Hi! So, at the moment most of the elves and rangers are gone (that mud-pit wrestling was definitely a hit, let me tell you) but I've still got a few roaming around, looking for something to do. I can offer them to you for a bargain price (half-off until Monday!) if you pay shipping and handling.**

**I don't exactly know how they, er, "take care" of problems like yours…I find it's better not to ask questions. However, you can just tell them what the problem is and they'll find a solution. They're quite handy to keep around, to be honest. **

**Anyways, thanks for the letter—hope everything works out for you!**

**labradorite **(and Elrond!) **Yes, but he didn't say much. **But still deserves some credit. **Sure.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by cactuskim_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I have a problem, and as a trained Elven healer I was hoping that you would be able to help me.

I am dictating this letter to a squirrel whom Estel assures me will be able to not only write it all down but deliver it to you as well. As difficult as that is to accept, I hope he is right, since I am a bit tied up at the moment. Literally. And becoming quite desperate.

You may have noticed that I am frequently captured and tied up by bad guys (or at least in fandom I am), especially when I have had any contact with your foster son…he assures me that this is only a coincidence, but I am beginning to have my doubts. It does not seem to matter if it is Orcs, evil humans, misguided humans, Ring Wraiths, or *shudder* Fangirls, they all make the same mistake; they tie my hands behind my back for days or even weeks at a time without ever untying them for even a moment.

Discomfort aside, they NEVER consider that I have certain erm…'needs' that must be attended to on a daily basis. You know what I mean. Could you explain to these idiots that even 'perfect, ethereal elves' have bodily functions and that they need to take this into consideration when creating these situations. Seriously, just how do they expect a reader to believe that I am still somehow an appealing and sympathetic character to anyone including the twits who have captured me after a week or more of ignoring such a basic fact of life? It is no wonder that rescue is always late in coming because even the Wargs are giving me a wide birth after a few days.

I am convinced that there are many who would rescue me much earlier if the stench surrounding me was not repelling them long before they could see me in my plight. The only ones not bothered by the smell are the Fangirls (so much for your 'no bathing' theory for getting rid of them) and Strider. He says that he has something called 'hay fever' and doesn't smell a thing; if that is true, could you figure out a way of giving me hay fever, because my lack of it is really straining our friendship when I am expected to rescue him from similar situations.

Please help me by educating these fools.

Yours truly

"Squirming"

P.S. I now know what squirrels use for "ink," so please be sure to wash your hands well after handling this letter.

***

Dear Legolas,

My, my, you certainly do manage to get yourself into trouble. I've given the squirrel delivering this (odd little creatures, aren't they?) a nut for his trouble, though he seems rather unenthusiastic about it.

Please let me assure you that Estel has learned many things from my twin sons, not the least of which is their, er, zest for killing orcs. That being said, your doubts of my foster son's words are well-founded, and it would be wise for you to be careful what you believe.

As for the stench (and therefore the solution to your other…problem) if you would simply get over your irrational "I-hang-out-with-humans-so-I-have-to-smell-like-one" mind-set and put on some Dove deodorant then perhaps you would smell better longer.

You could also stop being so freaking attractive and then the fangirls wouldn't want you.

Or you could focus on the fight at hand, be the true warrior you are, and win against some worthless fangirls. Really, Legolas, your father would be ashamed to see that you're so easily tied up. Perhaps you really do like it? But we won't get into your S&M tendencies.

Best of luck to you

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Ainu Laire_

Dear Elrond,

Look. I have spent the last few decades attempting to fulfill this hopeless quest for your daughter's hand. I have been shot, stabbed, tortured, thrown off of cliffs, blown off of walls, sold into slavery, frozen to near-death, and overall completely humiliated by completely random people of various natures of evil (and somehow surviving all of it--I cannot fathom how either). When the opportunity for her hand finally arrives, the One Ring manages to escape from the Ring-bearer (last I heard it was stolen from Gollum and is in the hands of some man who called himself 'Captain Jack Sparrow').

I cannot continue like this. Can you not just let Arwen and I live quietly and happily in some little home beside the Last Homely House? With the way my life is going, the Ring will soon find its way to his master and I'll be captured by the Dark Lord in some improbable situation. Can't I just live in peace and happiness for once?

The Man You Raised As a Son

***

Dear Estel,

NO! You shall not marry my cougar daughter (the age difference really is scary, Estel, are you sure you're okay marrying an older woman? I know Ashton and Demi have made it work, but this is different) until you have properly inherited the throne and reached your full potential. I soon will have lost all control over her and I need to relish in these last few months of it.

I do understand where you're coming from, though, and I'll send along some Motrin with this letter.

Oh, and I'll talk to Jack Sparrow. He and I have some things to address, anyway.

The Man Who Raised You As a Son

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Elrond

I wish to complain about your son (the human one). He has been bullying my boy Percy (better known as The Mouth of Sauron). Your boy just went and cut my son's head off! All over some silly dispute about a sparkly tee-shirt.

Poor Percy has had a lot to put up with from other boys over the years due to his bad teeth. I did warn him about eating all these sweets but you as a parent know what boys are like. However that is no excuse for your boy to pick on mine.

I demand that you punish your son for his behavior.

Signed

Percy's (AKA the Mouth of Sauron's) Mum

***

Dear Mrs. Mouth of Sauron

Oh…um…I'm sorry about that. But, well, it _was _kind of necessary. If your son didn't want to be picked on he should have picked a career where his mouth wasn't as noticeable. Like a surgeon or someone who wears masks all the time.

Anyways, I'm sorry my son killed your son, but your son's master was the one that started it and my son is now the king of Gondor and I've already given him my daughter, so I really have nothing more I can do to punish him (he's obviously never heard Arwen snore).

Best wishes!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I've noticed that you have a blacksmithy there in Rivendell so I was wondering if I could come there and work for you? I'm really tired of being a pirate and having to make rum runs to the local tavern for Captain Jack every hour on the hour. How he can consume so much of it and have no need to use the little pirate's room afterward is beyond me!

Anyway, I can assure you that my smithy skills are the best there is, and I will even work for just my room and board! Elizabeth snoring at night is enough to wake the dead, and I recently discovered the hidden reason behind the "boyish" look to her body. I won't go into the details about it here since you are a wise elf and no doubt can get the gist of what I'm implying easily between these lines.

Please say yes to my request! I don't know how much more of this I can take!

Will Turner

***

Dear Will,

Let me give you the number of our blacksmith and you can talk directly to him. I have no problem with you coming to Imladris, as I'm sure both Legolas and Orlando Bloom would appreciate having some of the fangirls focusing on you instead. The blacksmith's name is, ironically, Mr. Brown, and his number is 1-313-915-9016. Please call him before 6:00 Monday through Saturday and he'll let you know.

Best of luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I've written you a love poem. I hope you enjoy it, for I worked quite hard on it.

There once was an elf name Elrond

Who of Mirror Image he was fond.

One day he discovered his love

And decided to give Celebrían a shove,

And they lived happily ever after in the pond.

My love for you is everlasting, and I do hope you take this as a token of my love.

Mirror Image

***

_Haldír has once more taken control of the response, this time with the help of Glorfindel and Celeborn, who wanted in on the fun._

Dear Stalker,

There once was this creeper named Mirror Image

Whose brain had a problem with leakage.

One day Haldír and Glorfindel decided to stop her

And her annoying as hell letters

For they had taken all they could manage.

Love,

Glorfindel and Haldír (STAY AWAY, CRAZY!)

* * *

**A/N: Wheeeeee!! Jell-O-covered elves for reviews! They're going fast, so you better come quickly!**

**Question for my lovely reviewers…do any of you know of some contests I could enter? I'm in the mood to write one-shots (of LOTR, Harry Potter or Ouran) and I'd like to put my work somewhere I can get some honest feedback. I'd be much obliged!**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. More to come!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm feeling better and I'd like to thank everyone for the well wishes. Hope this chapter manages to give you a chuckle!**

**On that note, on to the next installment of "Ask Elrond."**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond,

I am a much misunderstood creature. I cannot help the way I am. I was created with the desire to hoard treasure and eat hapless wayfarers that come into my domain. I breathe fire. Not my fault those darned wayfarers give me such heartburn! And so I am despised and feared and I have heard that some wizard is bringing a bunch of dwarves to kill me when I could happily live in peace with the local population if they would just surrender a virgin for me to eat once a month. I hear there is no end to these... Oh what did that silly King of Mirkwood call them? Fangurlz? So they are not in short supply. Virgins taste better than others and I would leave the rest of those pathetic fools alone if they would only feed me. Indeed! It could be quite handy having me around as I would defend my food supply at all costs!

Advice appreciated,

Hott Stuff

***

Dear Stuff,

I think it would be better to give you Thranduil's e-mail address, as he is the one currently in charge of the fangirls. Though I can't encourage, er, eating people, I have to say that I would not be disappointed if the adolescents stopped bugging me and my sons on my way to badminton lessons.

His e-mail (at least I think so) is UgliestElfEver at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

Please refer all further requests to him. Thank you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

Ha, in your face, elf-king! The One Ring cannot be stopped. I have abandoned Gollum once again, with the help of some pirates who picked him up while vacationing here in Middle Earth. Once aboard, it was really a simple matter of enchanting the captain, Will Turner (who for some reason looks a little familiar to me), and now I have full control of the ship at my disposal.

The only problem is, for some reason the crew has begun showing signs of devolution; one of them has grown fins, another has begun eating raw fish, and I think one even sprouted gills the other day. And some hag showed up muttering about the captain 'neglecting his duties' and 'ferrying the dead to the afterlife'. I wasn't really listening, and I had Captain Turner throw her overboard.

I'm assuming the crew's mutation is elvish work, as I doubt the wizards would have any interest in pirates and you elves are a rather spiteful lot. As such, I respectfully request that you return the crew to its former glory. And if that doesn't work, Sauron won't be the only one laying siege to Middle Earth.

Warningly,

One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear One Ring,

I've had words with Will Turner (or possibly Paris of Troy, I can never tell them apart), so I daresay your days are numbered, bucko. Have your fun now possessing and generally being a nuisance, because come December I fully intend on kicking your ass all the way to Mount Doom. (We really need to come up with a more creative name for that mountain. I mean, compared to Imladris, Fangorn, hell even Rohan, Mount Doom is a major disappointment.)

I think it would be rather obvious that I had nothing to do with the mutation of the ships crew. If you had any brains at all (which, I now realize, you don't, considering you're a cheap, flashy gold ring with too much personality) you would realize that it is YOUR presence on the boat that has caused so much harm. Have you no pity? Sweet Elbereth, those poor pirates were hideous enough before YOU showed up.

Anyways, I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you, ring. So…what's that human cliché again? Don't count your chickens before money grows on trees!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by nightstarz_  
Dear Elrond,

I have discovered a gross lie on this...fanfiction website. There are several rude little brats who say that I am the only elf in Middle Earth who is not emaciated, and so they have called me obese. I personally do not notice any difference between myself and say, Legolas, other than the fact that I have a six pack and he has skin and bones. I would like these ridiculous accusations to stop, as they are destroying my dignity. Could you give me some advice on how to control these authors?

Haldír

***

Dear Haldír,

I should think the solution was obvious. Simply take off your tunic more in public. I daresay no maiden would object and everyone can use a little eye candy now and again.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen22_

To: TheWimpyHealer at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatElvenKing at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Oh yeah?

Dear Wimpy,

That's "STUDmuffin" to you, bubba. "SnuggleMuffin" is what Celebrían calls Glorfindel when you're too busy answering your mail. For what it's worth, my fangirls just say "Oh, God!"

Which I think is way cool.

Anyway…

Incidentally, I think you should allow me to feed the architect that designed your private rooms in Imladris to one of my spiders. Didn't your mother ever tell you that closets are for storage, NOT for habitation? Well, not unless it's for fangirls, that is (but they're dumb and gullible and stack rather nicely.) When it comes to…erm…that most important recreational area, my designers gave me a much more spacious area designed precisely for the purpose, complete with appropriate accoutrements. I'll bet if you looked around a bit, you might find a similar area that would suit. Trust me, Glorfindel would be happier.

Yes, I have heard from Legolas. (And yes, I know about squirrel mail - and I MIGHT be interested in using it - but NO, YOU had to demand e-mail, remember?)

For what it's worth, as of his latest update, he, that smelly Ranger-critter and YOUR SONS are currently lost in some mountain pass looking for spooks, but that they'll catch up with the rest of the "gang" by taking boats from the Corsairs. He insists this is a sure-fire plan to help win the war; but considering everything (especially that the idea for this detour came from YOUR side of the Elven gene-pool) he'll be lucky to get there in time to shoot off a single arrow. And I hope your sons remember the LAST time they had him on a boat. I am NOT going to pay their dry-cleaning bill again!

By the way, there is no way in Dol Guldur I'm paying for your therapy either. All I ever asked for was reimbursement for an inflated phone bill, courtesy of your advice to my nit-wit son (who will believe just about anything). I figure that the rest of the damages can come out of the Dúnedain's inheritance. That sounds fair, doesn't it?

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (StudMuffin Extraordinaire)

***

To: DumbBlond at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: KnowsEverything at Rivendell . elfrealm. ME

Subject: How do you like _them_ apples?

My Dearest Cupcake Face,

I really don't want to talk to you about what's in my closet. As much as I like Glorfindel, I don't swing that way. Thanks so much.

If e-mail is so inconvenient for you (which it's not, so don't even try it) then you should have just said something. Honestly, I think you just like to complain and I like to ignore you, so it seems silly to change now.

To be frank, I don't really understand why you want your son back so badly. I mean, with all of the time he's spent with Estel (and the amount of time he spends tied to trees, apparently) he's beginning to smell. That and he just seems to cause trouble and shame wherever he goes (I won't bring up the arrow-in-your-ass incident). And, if you look into history, you'll see that MY delicious side of the gene-pool has done very well for itself thankyouverymuch, but I do not see what your family has contributed to society (besides your famous cream puffs).

Oh, and I've decided that instead of giving Estel his inheritance (he won't need it, anyway) I was going to take a long holiday with Glorfindel and Erestor. Would you be interested in joining? I don't think I could handle the thong-wearer and cross-dresser by myself.

Elrond, Lord of Imladris (aka Ruler of Everything)

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

I have discovered that trying to punch Thranduil when he's mad as Udun probably is not the most intelligent idea. And it made matters so much worse when I told him that it was on your suggestion. . .

Anyways, Glorfindel is sulking right now so I have to speak on his behalf (he had to ask my help yesterday when spelling 'dammit'). He swears that if anyone ever accuses him of wearing those totally un-sexy pink thongs again, he will _[censored for your mental protection]._ He also says that black thongs are HOT. (And I'll not put in the naughty things Glorfindel just said to me, as all reading this will probably be quite disturbed.)

After nearly being bashed with a broomstick by our favorite King of Mirkwood, I immediately set off in pursuit of the Spider, whom I have lovingly named Shnookums. Kindly tell Haldír I'm sorry that I could not resist my savage (and quite frankly sadistic) impulse to set a spider upon Mary Sue. But even the destruction of Mariel Suevien seems not to have appeased the wrath of the Dumbass, so I'm still in danger of being chased around with a broom.

And as for your gratitude - it was my profound pleasure. And now, if you will excuse me, I have to run for my life.

Love,

Araloth

P.S. Legolas says hi.

***

Dear Araloth,

Hello, Legolas. And Glorfindel, please do not ever say such things again. I can feel my retinas sizzling.

Oh, and thanks _so _much for telling Thranduil it was my idea. As if the idiot doesn't have enough to ream me out about. Please find…Shnookums…immediately if not sooner so _I _don't have to chase you with a broom, too. Or something sharper, depending on Erestor's mood (he's absolutely terrified of spiders, I haven't the foggiest idea of why. He screams like a little school-girl whenever he sees one and makes Celebrían kill them).

Thranduil is very ticklish behind his knees and absolutely despises having his hair messed up. I hope those tips will help you in the future.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by KyMahalei_

Greetings Lord Elrond from Treebeard of Fangorn Forest.

And a most hearty greeting to each of the trees of Imladris!

I do not mean to be abrupt with this letter. Most messages worth sending are worth sending well. As such, they require many well thought words before they are to be fully understood. But I must ask your forgiveness if I seem a bit abrupt. We have recently had an infestation of our woods, our forest, our home, so to speak. They are small, wiggly little things that chatter incessantly and have large hairy feet. To date I have only seen two of them, but I am sure there are more lurking about. They would be harmless and easy to ignore but for the fact that we can't seem to keep them out of the Ent-draught. I nearly had to scoop one of them out of my best vintage the other day. Repulsive little creatures. Do you have the name of a good exterminator?

Respectfully yours,  
Treebeard

***

Dear Treebeard,

I have to admit that the idea of writing to you seemed rather odd until labradorite pointed out that I return letters to corpses, rings, evil flaming eyeballs, and orcs, so I really shouldn't scoff at writing letters to trees.

Anyways, I do in fact have the number of an _excellent _exterminator (we had an infestation of spiders one hot summer—Erestor was beside himself) but I fear no techniques an exterminator would use would get rid of a hungry hobbit. Your best bet is to get a large amount of mushrooms and toss them as far away as possible.

Or you could send them on a random quest with their friends to destroy a ring. Either way gets them out of your hair—er—leaves.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

We're going to say right off the bat that this is a letter of complaint, not for advice. We're writing to complain about the fact that you, in all of your studly-Elf-ness, have mercilessly and unremittingly stolen all of our patients/guest stars. (Harry Potter in particular was a vital case. That kid is Messed. Up.) If you keep offering this advice column, we're going to have to take some drastic action so our shows ratings don't drop and we really don't want to put more effort into this than necessary. Can you please just stick to your own story and leave Earth alone?

Oprah Winfrey and Dr. Phil

***

Dear Oprah and "Dr." Phil,

You both _suck_ at giving advice. Well, Oprah, you aren't bad. But Dr. Phil is a disgrace to the name of psychology. Maybe if you weren't so horrible and ridiculous then your "patients" wouldn't need my prestigious advice. How do you like _that_?

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: For some reason this story is getting less and less funny as the chapters go on…sorry about that…I'll try to step it up. I may have used up all of my funny…**


	12. Chapter 12

**I LIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

…

**Ahem.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Thank you for providing me with Mr. Brown's phone number. The name sounds familiar but right now I'm having a hard time recalling why since Elizabeth just smashed a rum bottle down on my head. She/he said it was an accident, but I have my doubts that it was since at the time she/he was screaming at the top of her/his lungs that I was not leaving her/him and that some maiden by the name of labradorite had better stay away from me.

Right now I would do anything for labradorite if she could get me away from this crazy cross-dresser! I would appreciate it if you would pass that on to her.

Will Turner

***

Dear Will,

Instead of a verbal response, labradorite replied with a suggestive eyebrow raise and a rather crude noise I don't think I could replicate. She is a rather strange creature.

Good luck avoiding your cross-dressing wife/husband—surprises like that are a bitch, aren't they?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

I really do not appreciate your vile actions in regard to my Nazgul. Having their bodily forms drowned in the Baranduin is highly embarrassing and an affront to their feelings. The Witch-King has been inconsolable for days, and Nazgul Number 5 has taken to his habit of eating raw onions again. Yes, freaking raw onions. I also do not appreciate your sending MY ring off to Eru-knows-where in the hands of a witless halfling. I demand full compensation for my losses.

I send you a thwap over the nose for your insolence.

Sauron

***

Dear Sauron,

I reply to your "thwap on the nose" with a hearty shove. HA.

I apologize for Lord Glorfindel's (or Arwen's, depending on whom you ask) blatant disregard for the Nazgul's feelings. As soon as they promise to either leave Middle Earth, cease attacking the pretty elves, or stop generally being a nuisance, we will promise to never again drown them in the Baranduin (though you never said anything about _other _rivers).

Yes, you will be receiving full compensation for your losses. Oh, and did you know that Elton John is straight, Hugo Weaving has normal eyebrows, and Johnny Depp is ugly?

Good. Glad we're on the same page here.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Apparently there are those who think braids, full-grown beards, helmets, axe-wielding and having anger management issues is "hott."

I thought only Legolas got the fangirls. And the problems associated with having fangirls.

Ahem. HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hyperventilating Dwarf

***

Dear Gimli,

I daresay that, though you are quite a handsome fellow, the fangirls are most likely in love with the idea of you and Legolas together.

Make of that what you will.

If you wish to avoid further, er, incidences with said girls, maybe you should finally get married (I've said the same thing to Legolas Eru-only-knows how many times. Won't you two just pick someone? ANYONE?!). That should stop them.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

I contacted this Captain Jack Sparrow, as you suggested. However, he was unbelievably unhelpful due to the fact that he was drunk on rum. Amidst all the babble, he did mention that Harry met "some sparkly bloke named Edward" and he hadn't seen him since. Would you happen to know of anyone matching that description?

I swear that if I don't hear from Harry soon, there won't be enough Dr. Phil's in the world to help him after I finally DO get my hands on him. If you happen to hear from him, tell him that his days are numbered.

(Signed elaborately)  
Ginny Potter  
Desperate Housewitch

***

Dear Ginny,

If I know who Jack Sparrow is referring to (and I think I do) then it is most likely that you will never see Harry again (apparently wizards with lightning bolt scars taste much better than normal humans). I'm terribly sorry about this, but I'll have you know that I had nothing to do with it at all.

And I highly doubt that "Dr." Phil has ever helped _anyone_, let alone someone as effed up in the brain like your husband.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Mageia_

Dear Elrond,

You probably don't know me. But I am an Elf of Rivendell and I am very concerned about some peculiar stereotypes that I've encountered. You see, I got this letter from a shoemaker asking if I could go into his house at night and make his shoes for him. I thought that his request that I come into his house in the middle of the night quite perverted and disturbing so I threw it away. But the week after that, I got this list of toys from a little boy asking if I could bring it to some fat guy named "Santa Claus." I managed to put up with such silly letters for about a month, but when my sister was given a pair of doll sized mittens with a note that complemented her cookies, I decided that it was quite enough.

I don't know if this is another joke set up by your sons or the rapid decline of intelligence in humans but it would be nice if you could help us restore some peace in my house.

Concerned Citizen

***

Dear Citizen,

Well, did you ever consider just going to that person's house in the middle of the night and ruining all of their shoes? And I highly doubt it would have killed you to forward that poor little boy's list of Christmas wishes on—have a heart!

Humans are hopelessly stupid; it's best not to question it.

And I wouldn't put it past my sons to think it rip-roaringly funny to start a stereotype like that, so your accusations are well-founded.

Sorry about any inconvenience, but the stupidity of mortals is not my forte, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it). Best of luck to you!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by NiRi's Narrations_

To: UgliestElfEver at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: 2hott2trott at Erebor . Wilderland . ME

Dear Tharan.. Thrandoo… Tharandoouil… or however you spell it. I hope you get this email. Elrond gave the address to me, and I had to scratch my scales as I've seen you from a distance and you don't look ugly to me. I've been around the block, let me tell you, and it's them blasted Noldor that are U-G-L-Y. Mean tempered, too. I should probably CC it to Studmuffin at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME, and maybe send a copy via squirrel courier just to be safe.

Anyhow, as I was telling Elrond, that meddling wizard Gandalf is bringing thirteen dwarves (whatever happened to the usual seven? Did Snow White breed more or something?) to the Lonely Mountain to kill me. That of course means he will be sending them through YOUR realm. Just giving you a heads up. You might want to be on the lookout and if you can detain them, I'd be very grateful. I might even give up some white gems if you can hold them off indefinitely.

But the real purpose of this email is to inquire about getting some of those virgin Fangurlz. See, I really don't like eating dwarves or men, and I don't wish to make children motherless, so it's really safest if I eat the virgins (they taste better too!) I reckon I could even stop eating the occasional lost elf if you could manage to hook me up. Can I get them via mail order, do you think? I've heard the giant eagles have a monopoly with that overnight delivery (UES: United Eagle Shipping) which is outrageously priced! But perhaps I can arrange to get them via Squirrel Courier. Or that new delivery service I just heard about: Ranger Express. I think the last person I ate said something about those fangurlz following scruffy rangers about. Don't know why. They are awfully smelly and unsanitary.

Thank you for your time, and I hope you never have to deal with that silly Peredhel in Rivendell. No help whatsoever! And don't forget to watch out for those dwarves! I shall be in touch to make payment arrangements.

Sincerely,  
Smaug

***

_This letter was answered by Thranduil and forwarded to labradorite for the sake of this chapter._

To: 2hott2trott at Erebor . Wilderland . ME

From: Studmuffin at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

Subject: It would have been easier to get this through Squirrel Courier

Dear, er, Smaug,

I've never liked that stupid Gandalf much, regardless of how good his party salsa is. I'll do everything in my considerable power to detain them, but I make no promises as Gandalf is a pretty scary guy, and that staff is practically taller than I am.

I have a plethora of fangirls and you can drop by anytime to pick some of them—I doubt they'd object if _I _suggested it, as they think rather highly of me. I've never eaten one, but I would assume that they taste just as good as any other virgin; you might have to wipe the stupid off of them before you eat them though.

Good luck,

King Thranduil

* * *

_Idea submitted by gernzy_

Dear Elrond,

Due to the advice of Estel and our good friend Legolas, we have recently typed in our names on this interweb Google thing. We were appalled to find such articles involving a practice called "twincest," written by journalist types who are also interested in two red haired friends of that Harry Potter lad, and some devilish Japanese school boys.

We are just appalled at this breech of privacy and would like to inform the general public that that only happened ONCE…erm…I mean that that is disgusting and the thought has never EVER crossed our estranged minds.

Please help

Elladan and Elrohir

P.S. Out of personal interest we also typed in your name and you'd be shocked at the wide spread opinion that you and "uncle" Glorfindel are getting it on.

***

Dear Elladan and Elrohir,

Please don't ever mention me and Glorfindel "getting it on" ever again. I barely managed to keep down my lunch. If I've said this once, I've said it a thousand times: I have absolutely no control over scary fangirls. In fact, this entire chapter has been about fangirls, and labradorite is starting to get pissed. I would suggest just avoiding "boogie-boarding the internet" or whatever it is Legolas called it.

If you're so against incest, please help me in convincing Arwen that it is wrong. She seems to think that marrying her foster brother is acceptable.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Elrond

I am beginning to suspect that my father prefers my older brother over me. I got a clue from phrases I overheard such as "I know his uses and they are few."

Also he sent me on a suicide mission and then tried to burn me alive. Do you think there is anything in it or am I just being paranoid?

Faramir

***

Dear Faramir,

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your brother Boromir is a pretty cool cat. It must be hard having to deal with someone so awesome as a brother.

That being said, he's going to be killed soon (if he hasn't already, as I don't know when you wrote this letter), so you'll have dear ol' daddy all to yourself in barely any time at all.

But then again, you probably don't want to deal with Denethor all by yourself now. Shame.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Elrond

I hear there is an elderly white bearded gentleman hanging around with some elves in middle earth. Could you please ensure he is returned to this world in time for 25th December? He knows I've been good and nice as he has checked his list twice.

Little Bobby

***

Dear Bobby,

You better watch out, because I've forwarded your letter on to that gentleman and he's coming to your town.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I've always thought it was creepy that he sees you when you're sleeping and knows when you're awake. I mean, Galadriel does the same thing, but it's less pedophilic when she does it.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I'm embarrassed to be writing to you, but it seems I have no other options. You, as an elf, have gorgeous, flowing hair, and I'm writing in for some handy tips on how to do that. You see, my hair (though just as thick and luscious as yours) has a rather greasy quality to it that is uncontrollable. How can I fix this?

Severus Snape

***

Dear Snape,

TAKE A SHOWER.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, guys, it's been a whirlwind week full of celebrations and picnics and shaving cream fights, so I've been rather busy. **

**  
The Jell-O elves weren't a big hit, so why don't we revert back to chocolate covered? They now come in dark chocolate, white chocolate, milk chocolate and caramel chocolate (because that's a real thing). Hope you enjoyed!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I don't **_**really **_**have a legitimate excuse this time…so, erm, I'm sorry?**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

Well, the blasted pirate threw me overboard! I think that blow to the head from his wife's rum bottle really did a number on him, because the next thing I knew, I was swimming! And just for the record, without arms that is quite a difficult feat.

I hitched a ride on the back of a sea turtle (quite accommodating creatures, you know?), and have made it to a beach somewhere in the Caribbean. I'm not exactly sure which beach, but I'm hoping that there aren't many, as I'm already heavily tanned and the sun's heat is bringing back some painful memories of fire and brimstone.

If you could send someone to pick me up, I would be forever in your debt. Limitless power could be yours, if you'll just accept this offer and save me from this horrid fate.

Tantalizingly  
One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear One Ring,

You obviously haven't been paying attention in Geography if you think that there's only one beach in all of the Caribbean, but no matter. I've used Vilya as a tracking GPS and have managed to locate you (did you know there are five other rings of power floating around somewhere? Voldemort has been busy). I've sent nine peoples of Middle Earth, in varying species, to come and find you and, er, take you home once more.

I've sent along some sun-screen with this letter, as well. No need to thank me.

Sarcastically

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond

As per your suggestion, in an effort to stave off the many crazed fangirls, Legolas and I have married. Yes: each other. He does look rather feminine, you know. Anyway, I am writing to ask about what you know about this condition known as Mpreg. Legolas has been vomiting every morning for a week now, and elves aren't supposed to get sick! I heard something whispered about this 'Mpreg' thing, and hope you know a cure for it.

Many thanks,  
Gimli

***

Dear Gimli,

Erm…that wasn't _exactly _what I had in mind with my suggestion…but no matter, it's clear you two are a match made in heaven anyways.

I haven't the foggiest idea what 'Mpreg' is, but from some recent cruising of the net (and labradorite's rude snickers) I think I have pieced together what exactly it is. Offer Leggie some pickles and ice cream, and I'd like to have the child named after me.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Mageia_

Dear Elrond

The most amazing thing that could ever happen to a sixteen year old boy just happened to me. My siblings and I discovered a magical world where animals talk and the food is awesome. Before we knew it we became kings and queens of Narnia! (I know, how lucky, right?!) But one day we decided to take a break from it all and return to our normal lives for a bit. But when we came back, our castle was totally trashed, all our friends have died a thousand years ago and my spotlight has been stolen by Prince-douchebag-Caspian. Is there anyway to make sure this doesn't happen again?

Sincerely  
High King Peter of Narnia

***

Dear Peter,

It was dumb of you to leave such a magical place like Narnia. I would offer you some power in Middle Earth as a consolation, but we've recently had an influx of Kings and it really has been more than enough. To make sure it doesn't happen again, I suppose you should just _not leave_ like you stupidly did the first time, though it makes me nervous that a 16 year old is trying to rule—well, actually it makes me laugh, but that's nearly the same.

Good luck!

Oh, and tell Prince Caspian (what is a douchebag?) that you're going to mess up his hair. He should leave pretty quickly after that.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Last time I checked, there weren't rabid girls running around in strange attire trying to kill my Helen and screaming, "LEGGIE!" or "WILL!" whenever they saw me. Yet for some reason, as of late, there has been quite a surplus of them. Who in the name of the gods is Leggie? I have no idea what to do about the sudden influx of girls that keep running around after me! In the name of Great Jupiter, help me!

Paris of Troy

***

Dear Paris,

I regret to inform you that you look unfortunately similar to both Legolas of Mirkwood and Will Turner. I would suggest shaving your head and changing your name, but I doubt very much Miss Helen of Troy would approve of that—quite a vain thing she is.

If you'd seriously like help, I'll refer you to one Mr. Edward Cullen, who should be able to take care of things from here. His e-mail is ScintillatingOne at Undead . Forks . USA.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Ninfea di Luna_

Dear Elrond

I am completely in love with you. I imagine you covered with chocolate, and I eat it straight off of you. labradorite sent me an elf like that, and I am so grateful, but...it's not you. Unfortunately, she seems okay with this idea. So can you ask her to send you, the next time? I have macadamia nuts and vanilla ice cream to eat with chocolate. Trust me, you will be clean after this meal, don't worry, I know how Erestor gets.

Oh, and I am married, so, please, come on a Friday; my husband will be home very late.

Emilie

***

Dear Emilie,

Um…I think I'll be needing a word with labradorite before I can appropriately answer this…letter…

_Elrond dashed off to find labradorite and, in a fit of excitement, Haldír decided to finish._

My dearest Emilie, from the moment I saw your elegant name on the beautiful paper I knew you were the one. How I long to be covered with chocolate and drizzled with macadamia nuts—it sounds delicious! I'm more partial to chocolate chip ice cream…could we use that instead? At night I picture the dirty things I could--:LJDF:LAUDOYR:OEWIJU$(P!*&$)(^R JAKJD!!!

_Elrond was not amused. Please stand by._

* * *

_Idea submitted by Colonel UnderRoo_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I'm writing to you in desperation. I think I want to kill myself. To cut a long story short: When I was a kid, my mom had an affair with a conman and so my dad shot her. Then he shot himself... while I was hiding under the bed. Pretty crappy, huh? So I got pretty mad (as you can probably imagine) and I took on the conman's identity and started conning people myself. I met a girl and we had a kid who I've barely seen.

Then I was trying to get to LA from Sydney and my plane crashed on this weirdo island. Tons of my friends have died and creepy stuff has been going on for FIVE seasons worth of TV... Can you imagine the trauma? Then just to top things off, I fell for this girl called Kate, but she ran away from the island after stealing Claire's kid and now she's in love with the doc who tortured me. Recently, a group of us got sent back to 1977, where I built a very happy life with another lady called Juliet. But then Kate and the doc come back to ruin everything. My girl just fell down a hole and set off a bomb and everything's been white for a while. I'm not quite sure what's going on... I'm having an identity crisis too. I don't know if I want to be Sawyer or James Ford... What would you suggest?

Oh yeah, and should I kill myself?

Thanks!  
James "Sawyer" Ford

***

Dear Sawyer

If that was you "cutting a long story short" then I would hate to hear the actual story.

Listen, I'm not going to lie to you, you might as well just finish yourself off. I mean, really? You're probably going to die once that terribly confusing show ends, anyways, so you should save yourself the trouble and die.

My apologies at my lack of tact—I've sent some cookies for the road.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

I live with my possessed uncle, my cousin, and my adoring older brother. There is also a very disturbing man (if you want to call him that) who inhabits the same residence. This grimy being is constantly trying to flatter me and insists upon touching my hair and face and whatnot. It is quite disgusting. Many times my dear brother and cousin are off somewhere galloping about with the Rohirrim and are therefore unable to intimidate him into staying away from me. Is there anything I can do about this? I already know the awesomest sword tricks and can best any man in sparring, but this is one thing that has me stumped.

Éowyn

P.S: Oh, and I'm in love with your foster son who happens to be in love with your daughter (that never stops being creepy) so is there anyway I can get him to fall in love with me and forget that stupid bi—lovely daughter of yours? Thanks.

***

Dear Éowyn,

Well, have you considered using your "awesomest" (I had to force myself to type that word, I'll have you know) sword tricks to get rid of Mr. Wormtongue? In any case (at least before your uncle turns back into something resembling a human) I would suggest taking many showers to wipe the yuck off of you.

Or you could always refer him to another strange man named Severus Snape. I bet they have a lot in common

Lord Elrond

P.S: If you figure out a way to woo Estel, please feel free to do so. I've been throwing mortals at him for ages but the damn Ranger just won't budge.

* * *

Dear Father,

We would like you to hide this message from labradorite, who has had the gall to send us away once again. Each time she whores for reviews, she volunteers the First Born to be sent away to the most atrocious places; it is truly unjust! How dare she do this?! Father, you _must _stop this wretched behavior before…someone…decides to kill her.

That, and every time we leave it seriously takes away from our mischief. It is most inconvenient.

Elladan and Elrohir

***

Dear Elladan and Elrohir,

We'll figure something out, don't worry. Glorfindel, Haldír and I are devising an ingenious plan, with some help from Harry Potter, to put an end to this.

Once you've returned home and cleaned off (you know Erestor won't let you in the house until you have) then you can help us, too.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: BLAH! Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys; it's been awesome feedback and support *little pink hearts***

**I think that eventually this story is going to have to end…though I don't know exactly when or how many chapters. Any ideas? I'd love to get some of your opinions, considering you all have contributed a lot to this story as well.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Umm…*begs forgiveness***

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

I have been having incredibly vivid, recurring dreams in which Glorfindel swaggers about The Hall of Fire, clutching his crotch, jerking his chin upwards every time he sees me, and addressing everyone as "Brutha." While this was humorous before, I'm getting quite disturbed. I don't even know what to request! Shall I beg a sleeping potion? A bedtime story? I need help!

Lindir

***

Dear Lindir,

That is indeed a strange and slightly disconcerting dream. Unfortunately, I think this may be a reality and not something happening while you're lying in your Power Ranger sheets. I would love to deny any truth to such a dream, but two plus two does indeed equal four and this is the black thong-wearing, blond balrog-slayer we're talking about.

No doubt he learned his actions from either labradorite herself or one of her revolting friends (it matters not which) and I suggest we stage a coup and nip this behavior in the bud before he starts wearing bling and rapping about his ho.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond

Éowyn says that she's coming back after they bury her uncle in Rohan. I love her and everything, but I have a feeling she's just blowing smoke up my ass. What say you?

Lord Faramir

***

Dear Faramir,

As she's finally got her paws off my foster son (I decided, after all, that he _was _good enough for my daughter. Sorry) I don't really care who she ends up sleeping with. That being said, she's quite easy to, er, persuade, and I do not doubt you can convince her that you're the right guy for her.

Good luck! And remember: practice safe lunch and use a condiment.

Is that what the phrase is? labradorite said something along those lines.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I was wondering…is it possible that we can mail order some of those Mary Sue's you and Thranduil are always going on about? The boys and I are in need of targets for archery practice. Let me know!

Haldír

***

Dear Haldír,

Enclosed is the mail order form. Make sure you mark "handle with care" on the specifications, as the young ladies are already brain damaged enough.

Lord Elrond

Mary Sue Ordering Company (MSOC) ©

Shipping Address: ______________________________________________________

Credit Card Number: ____________________________________________________

Number of Sues: _________

Hair Color Preference: (Circle Choice) Blond------Brown------Red------Color Changing

Level of Intelligence: (Circle Choice) Abysmal------Scarily Low------Average

_Please note that "average" is merely the general level of intelligence and not on the level of, say, a normal human being_

Purpose of Sues: ________________________________________________________

Shall we include a warranty? Yes------No

_All Sue's subject to limits of warranty and/or their rather short life span. We do not hold responsibility for extreme stupidity, injuries that may come upon the customer, or high-pitched squealing that can wake the dead. Order at your own risk._

Signature: _______________________________________ Date: ____________

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

The former love of my life and my muse, Christine Daaé, has chosen that pompous blond Raoul over me. I mean, it's pitiful enough that half of my face is totally deformed (which is really too bad, because the other half is quite dashing if I do say so myself) and I just burnt down my domain and one of the only real homes I ever knew. I have no idea what to do next, and that strange-looking Brit with the tiny wiry pianoforte is about to make me go to New York (oh the horror) and actually pursue that girl again. Any advice you would give will be welcome.

O.G.

***

Dear Erik,

You know, they now have this fabulous thing called plastic surgery; I would really recommend you get that done to your face (you're right: the other half of your face is just lovely). If that doesn't work, then maybe you should consider getting a large mask to cover up your face?

You shouldn't have burnt down the opera house. That was really stupid. What about that wedding dress you made for Christine? Now it's probably in cinders and you're going to have to start anew. Stupid phantom.

Anyways, to go with the idea of "advice columnist," you should know that you're worth ten of any Raoul and your hair is at least forty times as better. Raoul could do with a haircut and some scented shampoo. I'll give him the number of my hair stylist, Severus Snape (he's turned out to be wildly helpful, let me tell you! I didn't think he had it in him) and we'll see what we can do.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

P.S: Oh, I didn't give you any advice, did I? Well, don't bother pursuing Christine, she's not worth it and her voice isn't _that _great.

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Elrond

How are you, ducky? Let me tell you my story. Several millennia ago (we won't talk about my age shall we, darling?) I missed the boat taking my fellow Istari to middle-earth. I miss my little friends dreadfully and I hope you can help me to join them. What happened was that Curunir (peach of a wizard) sent me off to retrieve his hanky which he had left in the office. He said they would all wait for me but when I got back they had sailed away! I was distraught of course. Pretty please help me get to my friends you lovely half-elf you.

Hugs and kisses  
Tarquin the Very Pink

***

Dear…Tarquin the Pink (you were Fuschia a while ago, weren't you? Strange.)

I've stopped trying to guess what's going through Saruman's mind, frankly. I'm sorry for your dilemma, but I make it a point to never deal directly with Curunir if I can help it. I'll have Mithrandir get in touch with you and see if he can WAAAHHHHHH—

_Elrond, spurred away by Gandalf's annoyance and general hatred of Tarquin the Very Pink (apparently the constant come-on's were becoming tedious) was prevented from finishing this letter. Sorry for the inconvenience. _

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lady Ambreanna_

Dear labradorite

I very much enjoyed the box of chocolate coated Elves you sent me. They were delicious in more ways than one! However, you sent the 'young' ones of the group. While I did enjoy the raw energy of these young stallions, I prefer the slow, practiced hand of experience. Could you send a few of the older Elves? Glorfindel, Erestor, Celeborn, Thranduil and yourself will do nicely.

Oh, and if they refuse... remind them of that "meeting" they had just before Glorfindel's begetting day. The one where "someone" decided to give "Old Glory" a birthday spanking and everything spiraled out of control and got freaky. Then tell them I was in the next room and have a recording of the whole thing. I sure they wouldn't it falling into the wrong hands!

One more thing. Could you dip them in fruit flavored syrup (cherry, strawberry, raspberry, blueberry, etc) and _then_ dip them in chocolate? Thanks!

***

_Elrond was quite peeved at not being allowed to read or answer this letter, and is sitting on labradorite's hands in protest. She is currently typing this reply with her nose, and thanks you for your patience. _

Dear Reviewer,

As you no doubt are aware, the elves have officially taken over my bedroom. The Ranger's have commandeered my family room, the hobbits are, of course, in the kitchen, and the dwarves are building something in the backyard. Therefore, I seem to have very little control over any aspect of my life as of now. It is truly unfortunate. I started this column with Elrond under strict instructions (I have yet to follow any of those instructions) and, as I sent away the latest box of chocolate elves, he caught me and…

_The next part of this letter is censored for your mental protection._

…and after all that, I had to relent. So, we've come to a compromise: if I stop sending boxes of his friends away at once, he'll let me stay alive.

Which I think is more than fair.

But then again, he never said I couldn't send _any _of them away. So, as compensation for your disappointment, I've forwarded Celeborn along with this letter, dipped in cherry syrup and covered with milk chocolate. Please don't tell Elrond, for I fear for my life.

Best wishes!

Labradorite

P.S: Glorfindel (he's currently attached to my feet, aiding Elrond) says he would really appreciate it if you didn't show that video to anyone, but I beg to differ. If you could please send a copy of said video along with Celeborn when you return him, I'd be much obliged.

* * *

My Dearest Elrond,

I have once more poured out my soul to you in an epic love poem, using the objects around me for inspiration. I do hope you enjoy.

Once More, My Love

This night I shall dream of your bedazzling ebony hair and tiger-eyes.  
Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous tongue-music,  
I long to sip from your cherry lips.  
In my dreams, we fly on the exquisite winged cucumber of purpleness -- skimming vast continents of trees and llamas.  
The depths of all the oceans of the universe shall never separate our love;  
Brilliant as writing love poems, the seas greet us from afar.  
In the twilight we feast on chocolate-coated cockroaches and tender stars of love.  
Adorned in white silk, we pluck our singing love chimes from our toes.  
I press the glasses that you wear around your neck against my lips so that our cherries melt into one.  
You will always be my little Elrond-cakes face, the tiger of my own writing eye of love.

My love for you is eternal and never-ending. Please say you love me, too.

Awaiting your reply,

Mirror Image

***

_Elrond was _literally _speechless. Which is never a good thing. Haldír and Celeborn took over replying, which is also never a good thing._

Dear Mirror Image,

I have written you a love poem in return. Please enjoy.

This night I shall dream of your bedazzling ugly hair and stalker-eyes.  
Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous scary-music,  
I dread to sip from your creeper lips.  
In my dreams, I throw you on the exquisite winged cumquat of nothingness -- skimming vast continents of darkness and stalkers.  
The depths of all the oceans of the universe shall always separate our love.  
Brilliant as screaming orcs, the seas greet us from afar.  
In the twilight we feast on poison-covered cockroaches and tender hatred-hearts of love.  
Adorned in white silk, we pluck our wailing love chimes from our ears.  
I press the ugly that you wear around your neck against my sword so that your creepy-ness melts away.  
You will never be my little Mirror Image-cakes face, the stalker of my own howling eye of love.

If you keep contacting Elrond, he's going to have an aneurysm, and we really don't want to deal with that. Stop it.

Love,

Haldír and Celeborn

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I've recently been turned into a real boy (I was previously made of wood, and that is not a euphemism) and something very strange happened to me when a very pretty young woman walked by the shop the other day. It was peculiar, but not unpleasant, but still embarrassing. Can you tell me what's going on?

Pinocchio

***

Dear Pinocchio,

What happened to you is called "being a teenage boy." Please don't make me explain this to you—ask your father.

Lord Elrond

P.S: If you know enough dirty lingo to tell me of your non-euphemism, why did you need to write in?

* * *

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Comments, questions, concerns? Drop a review! Thanks!**

**P.S. I hate FFN formatting.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I'd like to make a general announcement that from here on out I'm not taking any letters about specific reviewers with questions for themselves. Please feel free to continue submitting letters, but (as of right now, this may change) only ones from fictional characters or GENERAL questions will be added to the chapters.**

**I'm sorry if this sounds, er, harsh? But I've received WAY too many and I feel bad about having to choose which ones I put it. It isn't fair to you, and it isn't fair to me.**

**That being said, I hope you enjoy the next installment of **_**Ask Elrond**_**!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

You couldn't have picked me up a little SOONER?! Some douchebag with sparkly skin picked me up and thought I'd be a lovely gift for his mentally impaired wife. I call her mentally impaired, because for some reason I cannot influence her mind, as I have the minds of men. And no, it's not just because she is 'no man'; only the Witch King falls for that bullshit.

Luckily, the husband seems particularly vulnerable to mental influences; so much so that I am able to exert some degree of control over him even while hanging from a chain around the neck of his statuesque wife.

Soon, I will have complete control of the Sparkly One, and then, this new world shall tremor at my... uh... at his feet. In the meantime, I shall continue having him send hate mail to you and all those you love and cherish. Or, you know, maybe just you, depending on how tired I am (sucking the willpower from sentient beings is a tiring process, you know).

Fiendishly  
One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear One Ring,

That "douchebag" as you so lovingly call him, _is _the one I sent to pick you up. Arwen was insistent, for some reason, though it could just be she wanted him out of her hair. The stupid vampire just lost his head, apparently. Well, I think you're in wonderful hands and truthfully I won't be trying to retrieve you anymore.

This may not be what you were expecting me to say but, hey, one can only handle so much of Bella Swan before they crack. Oh, I should probably warn you that they're all dead beings so the possibility of you controlling them is very slim.

Good luck! I eagerly await the news of your demise. Perhaps after a few hours of Bella's unremitting whining you'll throw _yourself _into Mt. Doom.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond

I was minding my own business, frolicking in the wood with Faline, after visiting with my dear friends Thumper and Flower. However, it appears there have been some changes to this part of the forest, for as I passed my favorite tree, I found some new kind of path made of some kind of rock had been laid, cutting through our wood! As I stepped out onto it to investigate, something hit me with the force of a freight truck! (Actually, I think it WAS a freight truck).

Anyway, I woke up to find myself in a completely different forest. This one is very dark and creepy and the spiders are HUGE! As I ran about calling for Faline (she's no where to be found!), I stumbled across some small beings that greatly resemble some friends of Snow White. They seemed to be lost too, and I thought to join them, only one of them SHOT AT ME with an arrow! Simple beings. I have been avoiding GUNS now for years, and they thought to bring me down with an ARROW! HA!

Anyway, I was wondering if you could please find a way for me to return home. I miss my friends and Faline and our twin fawns.

Many thanks,  
Prince Bambi

***

Dear Bambi,

I'm very sorry about your situation. Not about falling into Arda (it really is a lovely place if you ignore the orcs and humans) but about falling into _Thranduil's _realm. That is truly unfortunate. He'll likely spit-roast you before nightfall.

Good luck! RUN, BAMBI RUN!!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sonja_  
Dear Elrond

I would first like to say that I am not very impressed with this little vacation you talked me into going on. "Oh, Frodo, you should go to Mt. Orodruin!" you said. "It'll be like a lovely spa getaway!" you told me. "Just take that lovely golden trinket with you and I'll even make sure you have a lovely escort the whole way!" you promised.

Well. Let me tell you nothing has gone the way you said it would (and by the way, what kind of escort are three Hobbits, a short-tempered Dwarf, two, well, let's be honest, rather filthy Men, a forgetful and borderline senile grumpy old Wizard and with an Elf who spends way too much time combing his hair and fretting about his appearance?) Also those idiotic fan-girls who chase him are rather annoying. I mean, how are we supposed to travel in secret when there's a bunch of screaming girls following us everywhere. And what do they see in him anyway? He's not even a real blonde, just look at those dark eyebrows!

To date we have also suffered through crazy looking crows chasing us, avalanches, nearly freezing to death, Wargs, a big nasty tempered squid, Goblins, Orcs, Uruk-hai, a Balrog (which did incidentally get rid of the grumpy old wizard), and other crazy blonde Elves who didn't want us to come into their lands because of that "evil" little ring you made me take with us (I think it's just misunderstood, personally). And your mother-in-law is kinda crazy; family reunions must suck ass. Anyways, that one crazy human then tried to take my shiny trinket, which I've rather grown fond of, and then they all made me and Sam leave the Fellowship.

YEAH. That's right. I know they are all running around telling everyone that Sam and I left of our choice, but let me be the first to tell you that was a lie. The two Men were apparently a little freaked-out just because they caught me talking to my shiny ring. I mean come one, what's that about? I thought they were big, tough men?!

And to top it off they seem to think there's something strange going on between me and Sam. I mean is it really so weird for two grown Hobbits to share a blanket when the weather gets a little cold? Anyway I just thought you should know we were kicked out of the group and told to go on to Mordor alone. Which by the way, is nothing like the Spa you promised it was, and did you know Mt. Orodruin actually means Mt. Doom? Not a very good name for a Spa and that's a fact.

Anyway back to my question for you. It has now become apparent to Sam and I that we needed a new guide so we've been following this rather strange looking creature who calls himself Gollum, although occasionally I hear him refer to himself as Sméagol, and he wants to go through some strange dark paths and tunnels. We've heard him mumble things about some chick named Shelob or something and we're not sure that we should waste the time just so he can stop and make some kind of booty call or something. Although I am not sure why I am seeking your advice on anything ever again, there isn't anyone else to turn to since they all ditched me to go hang-out in Rohan and Gondor. Please give me what advice you can.

Sincerely,  
Frodo Tired-of-Almost-Getting-Killed-All-the-Time Baggins

P.S: I'm pretty sure that I heard rumor that Strider was getting busy with some chick in Rohan too, if you get my meaning. He claims that she came on to him, but let's be honest; the only woman that would come on to him would have to be blind and have no sense of smell. I personally don't blame you for wanting to keep him away from your own daughter.

***

Frodo,

Let's be real here. You were the only one stupid enough to believe me and gullible enough to trust me. Just talk to Thranduil—he'll make sure you never fall for it again. I can't be blamed for forming the Fellowship of the Ring--I simply used "eenie-meenie-mienie-moe" and a magic eight ball to choose for me; blame it on the universe!!

To solve your problems, simply abandon Sam, the ONLY person to truly be loyal after you fell off your rocker, party it up with Shelob and be unable to cast the ring into the fire.

OH WAIT. YOU ALREADY DID THAT.

Let's not be pointing fingers, Mr. Baggins. You won't win, my fingers are _much _longer.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I think Arwen _has _actually lost her sense of smell after living with her brothers for over 2,000 years—that explains a lot.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond

I am an Elf Lord of Gondolin who, in the fall of that same city, slew the Lord of Balrogs and was slain by him in my turn. However, unlike certain others *coughGlorfindelcough* who merely killed a REGULAR Balrog, I am still stuck in the Halls of Mandos. Every time I try to bring this fact to Lord Mandos' attention, he refuses to speak to me. Something about needing an appointment or some nonsense. Do you know how hard those are to come by, what with him still cataloging the fear from the drowning of Beleriand? As if things weren't bad enough already, Daeron of Doriath has written a SONG about our shiny-haired mutual acquaintance and insists on singing it CONSTANTLY. At any rate, my question to you is threefold and is as follows: How in Arda did Mandos release Glorfindel, what can I do to exact revenge, and why don't I get songs written about me?

Sincerely

Ecthelion of the Fountain

Slayer of Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs

P.S: If you get a chance, could you send Celebrían's low-cal chicken salad recipe? Elenwë has Turgon on a diet.

***

Dear Ecthelion,

I'm not entirely sure about this, so don't quote me to anyone, but I think it's possible that Glorfindel, er, well, how to put this…you're aware that Glorfindel wears black thongs, correct? Well, and again please don't take my word for this, it's possible that Mandos…_approved _of this and, well…

This is sufficiently awkward. The truth is I have no idea how to get you out of there and the best thing you can do to get songs written about you is to write them yourself. Though, that is considered rather conceited. I'll put Lindir on it and we'll see what we can come up with.

As for exacting revenge…Glorfindel is _very _fond of his long, shiny blond hair. A little dye in the shampoo does wonders. Make sure you get the expensive stuff though; the cheap dye wears off after only 450 years.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I'll try to find the recipe…I hid it once Celebrían sailed so the cooks wouldn't make it anymore.

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

The Nuns of Salzburg Cathedral Abby

***

My Dear Nuns,

Well, how do you catch a cloud and pin it down? You need only find a word that describes her: A flibbertijibbet? A will-o'-the wisp? A clown?

Choose one, and then contact Captain Von Trapp. She'll go whore herself and that'll solve your problem.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_  
Dear Elrond

Sorry to bother you, but my letter I sent to Papa Elf never made it to the North Pole because of harsh weather conditions. I have a problem, you see: I set out for New York City in search of my real father, turns out that I'm really a human and not abnormally tall. But I lost my map somewhere in the candy cane forest and ended up circling the swirly-twirly gumdrops for a few days. It got even worse when this little furry masked animal that is deceptively cute attacked me; I was just trying to wipe the drool from his mouth. But apparently in my struggle with the ring-tailed creature I lost my container of syrup, so now I'm going through sugar withdrawal and have lost the will to spread Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear. I'd appreciate any assistance you could give me.

Sincerely,  
Buddy the Elf

***

Dear Buddy,

I have to ask you this…was the deceivingly cute furry animal a hobbit? If so, which one? I've recently sent a few on a mission and one has a tendency to, er, get lost, and it's entirely possible he ended up in this "swirly-curly-burly gumdrop" place you're going on about.

To be honest with you…I'm fairly certain everyone is okay with the fact that you have no will to spread Christmas cheer. Really, I promise. We'll survive.

Anyways, try mapquesting your way out and, if you're still lost, call me on my cell and we'll see what we can do.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Luthien Saralonde_

Dear Elrond

My friend, who goes by the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, had been thought dead by all (including me) for the past three years, when he suddenly shows up on my door pretending to be a book seller, and then has the gall to send me into a dead faint when he reveals himself without so much as a by-your-leave. As much as I dearly missed him, and was ecstatic to have him back, I fear that these sudden "revelations" (he always bustles in wearing some disguise or other, and manages to convince me he's really some fishwife, or even a cleric until he removes the disguise and laughs at the look on my face) are going to have a lasting damage upon my heart, and my mind. I've been seeing him  
everywhere, disguise or no disguise, as of late, even when I'm nowhere near him. Please help me find a way to tell him he's slowly but surely sending me into an early grave.

Sincerely,  
Dr. John H. Watson

***

My Dear Watson,

To avoid sounding cliché, your solution is elementary. You actually have several options.

One: Fake your own death, and then show up at his doorstep dressed as a mime or something ridiculous, and laugh at the look on HIS face.

Two: Stop being so gullible. Clearly you're an easy target and, as someone who has lived with Glorfindel for many millennia, the best way to stop the antics is to ignore them. Or have scary eyebrows. But you can't do much about that one.

Or, I suppose, three: Talk to him? But that's the suckers' way out.

Good luck! Try that mime thing, I swear it works!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

First off, I'd like to apologize that this letter is reaching you sopping wet. I live under the sea, and there was no way to get this to you without it being soggy. I hope the stupid seagull I sent it with gets it to you intact, but, if I had breath to hold, I wouldn't do it.

Anyways, my best friend is a mermaid and she's in love with a human (I know, I think she's an idiot, too) and she's gone down to the sea-witch Ursula (she is absolutely disgusting—I hope you never have to go there) and got legs. Now this Prince Eric fella has to fall in love with her and kiss her in three days and she'll stay human forever. Oh, and she can't talk and woo him with her lovely singing voice.

I see major problems with this plan.

I can't get out of the water and I hate doing anything dangerous, so do you think you could send a few of your best swimmers to help me?

Thanks,

Flounder the Fish

***

Dear Flounder,

Stop being such a guppy and gather some of your best friends (i.e. a crab and a seagull) and go help her. You know how pissed she'll be if she has to continue being a mermaid and no one wants to live with Ariel when she's P.O'd. I'll send along my twin sons…they tend to be useful when there's water involved…I haven't any idea why…and hopefully you get your problem solved!

Good luck,

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to Sonja, who submitted a few absolutely hysterical letters and reviews!**

**I've gotten a lot of ideas of when this story should end (though "never" is not a viable option, I'm afraid) so I think I've come up with a ball-park idea of it. All I need now is some kick-ass way to end it (including, though not limited to, Mirror Image's true identity) and we'll be set!**

**I want this story to last out the summer, so keep your fingers crossed.**

**  
Thanks for the wonderful reviews and support :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello! Welcome to my world of mayhem :D**

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I'm not sure if you can comment on this, but I still would like to know: has Glorfindel ACTUALLY been spotted in that black thong? And if so, does his ass look anything like David Beckham's? I'm not trying to be a creep, but y'know, there's been a lot of talk and I just got curious.

TheFightingTemeraire

***

Dear TFT,

I've never actually _seen _David Beckham's back side, so I can't compare.

Not that that means I've seen Glorfindel's. I'm just going on what labradorite has told me.

Ahem.

Apparently he has actually _confirmed _that he wears such a garment, so there's your answer, but please refrain from sending him any. Plenty of fangirls have already done so and we only have so much closet space in Imladris.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sonja_

Dear Galadriel and Celeborn,

I know this seems a little backwards, me asking for advice instead of giving it, but I have no one else to turn to. You see, when I first found out about my daughter and Estel, I was understandably quite upset. I wanted my lovely daughter to have nothing to do with the lowly mortal, foster son or not. I fretted for a long time then came up with a brilliant idea.

Well at least it seemed brilliant at the time. I told him that he could not have my daughter's hand until he became King of Gondor and the Reunited Kingdoms. I thought it was a foolproof plan! That is till I received word that the sly filthy little mortal somehow managed to accomplish it. He has sent an invitation to us to come to his coronation and is expecting me to bring Arwen and hand her over to him.

I simply never dreamed that the dirty little mortal I made my sons take care of would ever conceivably become a King! What am I to do now? Can you think of any other unimaginable hoops I can make him jump through?

I am asking you because I remember all of the very imaginative things you made me do before you let me wed your daughter, and because Arwen is your granddaughter as well.

Waiting impatiently for your ideas,  
Elrond

***

Dear Elrond,

That was indeed a good plan…except that you forgot that _you _were the one to raise him and therefore can only blame yourself for his accomplishments.

That being said, you could make up some nonsense about anyone marrying and elf has to craft their own wedding rings. I have a feeling Estel would fail miserably at that—he never was any good at arts and crafts. His talents lie elsewhere.

Or you could hide Arwen somewhere (I would imagine that both Harry Potter and that sparkly boy would be willing to house her) and make Estel search around the alternate dimensions this fic presents.

Good luck!

Galadriel

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond

Look, man. I just got my ass booted out through The Door of the Night and I'm floating about the Timeless Void. Let me tell you, it's damned boring here. So I was wondering if you wanted to come play checkers or something with me.

Morgoth

P.S: Don't forget not to say my name.

***

Dear Morgo…Dear Sir,

I'm busy at the moment defeating Sauron and trying to take over the world, but as soon as I'm done you'll be the first one I look up. Okay, pumpkin?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen22_

To: CheapSkate at rivendell . elfrealm .ME  
From: RoyalStudMuffin at mirkwood . elfrealm .ME  
Subject: You didn't think you'd get away with it, did you?

Dear TightWad,

Have you forgotten that it is MY larder those Sues have been fed from for the last few weeks? Or that it is MY closet space that no longer will hold my summer wardrobe? Or that it is MY warriors who have to deliver the Sues to the Eagles for delivery? Or that it is MY spiders that are spinning as much silk from their... nether parts... as they can to clothe said Sues in appropriate delicate attire?

You owe me fifty percent of all proceeds from your White Suelephant Sale.

Or I'll tell your sons about that time in Lindon before you and Celebrían got hitched - I'm certain you remember it - you, me, Círdan, and the Noldoran triplets. 'Nuff said, I presume...

Thranduil, King of the Greenwood (very tired of Mary Sues - even the cute  
ones. My Yee don't Haw anymore.)

***

To: EffWad at mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: HottieFace at rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Dear Jackass,

Fifty percent? I don't know what you're smoking over there in Eryn Lasgalen, but I strongly suggest you stop—it seems to have caused some severe brain damage.

Feel free to tell my sons about those triplets. They're convinced that I've never had fun in my entire long life; I doubt very much they would believe you. And need I remind you about the time you were caught in a tree, wearing a dress (that color was quite lovely on you, did I ever mention that?) and singing a love ballad at the top of your lungs for a very frightened squirrel?

We wouldn't want your entire army knowing about that, do we?

Lord Elrond

P.S: For your non-Hawing Yee, might I suggest a pill the humans have invented called Viagra?

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lady Ambreanna_

Rear Relrond,

Ri rave ra roblem! Ry riend Raggy rent ro ree Ron Rotts rand risareared! Robody ras reen rim! Rit's ra real rystery! Ran rou relp?

Rooby Roo

***

Dear Scooby Doo,

Er…well, I couldn't really understand your entire letter…but I assume you've lost something…or someone…somewhere…right? Erm, I'll see what I can do to relp. Help, I mean. Did you check under the bed? Shaggy tends to scream like a little girl when he's scared and usually hides somewhere bizarre like that.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by __StarOMorning_

Dear Ada,

I have been transported from Middle Earth to a weird place where everyone waves wooden sticks around and flies on broomsticks. However, I have met this one greasy-haired Professor who teaches potions (he says he knows you, actually) and have fallen desperately in love with him. He returns my affections and we are staying here together. So I'm just writing to tell you that I've taken your advice and am not marrying Estel, and to tell you that I'm still giving up my immortality. SUCK ON THAT!!

Your daughter,

Arwen

***

Dear Arwen,

Actually, it's good that you're at Hogwarts—Estel will never look for you there! However, if he _does _happen to find you (and most likely present you with a rather hideous wedding ring) then you have to come back. Still, though, nice try.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sonja_

Dear Master Elrond,

I am sorely in need of another opinion. You see, I have been debating in my mind for a while now whether or not I should take that gold ring from Frodo or not. It's not that I really want to use it, but you have to admit that it is one fine looking piece of bling.

My girl back home in Gondor has been getting a little bored with me and says I need to do something exciting and exotic, and I've been trying to come up with something for a while now. Then it hit me: that ring would look pretty damn hot as a nipple ring. What do you think?

Soon to be the new and exciting,

Boromir

***

Dear Boromir,

If anyone ever writes into this advice column using the words "nipple ring" ever again, I am going to beat labradorite into next week.

Please ask your father before you do something that…drastic. Your neon-pink hair has caused your family enough shame as it is.

Hoping to never see you shirtless,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Thank you for your advice regarding that OTHER Balrog slayer. Although, I must admit, I'm afraid I will be scarred for life. On the bright side, due to a brilliant plan involving Vaire's weaving, two sons of Fëanor, a bucket of licorice, and a Chihuahua, I have been released from Mandos' Halls. (This is contingent upon my not telling anyone what cartoon character decorates Lord Mandos' pajamas.) I will be returning to Middle-earth shortly, and in advance of myself I'm sending a few gifts for those of you in Rivendell. Words of warning--don't let anyone but Glorfindel near that shampoo bottle. It's hot pink for a reason.

Sincerely,  
Ecthelion of the Fountain

PS. Elenwë is eternally grateful for the recipe. Turgon, on the other hand...And how is Lindir coming with that song?

***

Dear Ecthelion,

Congratulations! You'll have to tell me that tale as soon as you return…though I must warn you that Arda has changed rather drastically since you were killed.

Namely the number of crazy teenage maidens running around in scandalous clothing, clutching Legolas' undergarments and squealing like banshees.

And I don't think Lindir has come up with any _song _yet, per say, but I do know that he has quite a few snarky haiku started…I find it best not to question him and let you two work on that once you get here.

See you soon!

Lord Elrond

P.S: Is Mandos _still _using those disgusting Spongebob pajamas? (Glorfindel had no such qualms about telling people once he was released) We should make him some new ones as a birthday present.

P.P.S: Have I ever told you how wicked cool I think it is that you're Ecthelion of the Fountain and you _drowned_? I love irony.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Okay, so, I'm a twin. And you know how when you talk about twins, you always use both of their names in a row? Apparently we are just one long sentence and not two separate people. Anyway, Elladan's name _always _goes first and I think it's really unfair. Just because he pushed me out of the way in the womb and was born 4.68 minutes earlier doesn't mean he should get to have his name first all the time. How can I fix this?

Just Elrohir

***

_Lord Elrond didn't really know how to reply to this, so George Weasley has instead taken control of this response._

Dear Elrohir,

I'm like you, man. My twin Fred was born a whole 2 minutes ahead of me and he _still _gets his name first all the time. Now, there isn't a _whole _lot we can do about it, unfortunately, unless you want to murder your twin. Which I don't think you do.

For now, anyway.

But if you're still upset about it, you could always shave off Elladan's eyebrows. That always makes me feel better.

George Weasley

* * *

**A/N: From here on out I'd like to ask you that if you have a letter for Elrond I'd like you to send them to me in a review and not a PM. My inbox is getting very full and I'd appreciate it if you could just use PM's for notes :)**

**That being said, with the exception of a few people (I'm assuming you know who you are) I don't want any continuation or follow-up letters after I've posted one of yours unless I ask specifically. As hilarious as they are (please don't think me ungrateful—I absolutely adore all of the letters that get sent in) I just want to make this story a little easier to follow. Some people have commented that the later chapters are getting confusing and I really want to try and stop that. **

**Thank you!!**


	17. Chapter 17

**It's been brought to my attention (understatement) that I forgot to include a snarky!Haldír in the last chapter, so I'd like to apologize for that. He wanted me to pass on the message that he appreciates all the support of his profanity and can't wait to see what his fangirls have in store for him later. **

**I'm not even going to ask.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sonja_

Dear Elrond Half-Elven,

I would like some answers about my sons. Recently Boromir's horn was found cloven in two on the banks of the Anduin. That boy can't seem to keep track of anything! I mean I sent him to you with a good horse, and excellent shield, and the Horn of Gondor. First the horse comes back without him, (though he did send me a message by something called squirrel mail when he reached your home to tell me he arrived safely) then he leaves his shield behind in Lothlórien, and now the beloved Horn of Gondor comes back in two pieces. What _exactly _has that boy been up to? I told that stupid son of mine when he left that he was to behave respectably; have they been having some kind of wild parties again?

I know everyone seems to think that I favor my elder son over my younger, but let's be honest: they're both hopeless. Faramir returned from Ithilien just the other day and said he'd lost his sword. I mean, seriously? You're a warrior! How in the name of Arda do you lose your sword? He just "set it down somewhere and can't remember where." Impossible. You have sons--what do I do with them? Would you be willing to trade? I hear your sons at least are excellent Orc killers.

On another note, I've been staring into this strange Magic 8 Ball looking thing that seems to show me what's going on around Arda, and it appears that the smelly foster son of yours thinks he's going to come here and become King of Gondor. Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen. Oh look at him he's got a sword that's been put back together. Any idiot can do that with a little super glue; like that's worthy of becoming King? Please.

His ancestors gave up the throne, so finder's keepers, loser's weepers!

Denethor

The King, I mean, ah, the Steward of Gondor

***

Dear Denethor,

I am _not _willing to trade my sons to you. Not because I have some need to keep mine around, but simply because I don't want to deal with yours. In fact, your eldest wrote in to me last chapter going on about some nonsense about a nipple ring? Disgusting.

Let's just be glad he didn't want a Prince Albert.

If you need to rant about how troublesome it is to raise dead-brained sons, I would suggest you contact King Thranduil of Mirkwood, as he managed to raise one of the most useless elves I have ever laid eyes on. And speaking of which—I know I should have consulted you beforehand, but I promised Estel that he could marry my gorgeous daughter if he took over the throne, and that little horn-dog is _determined _to do it. Sorry about that.

Good luck with your worthless sons—I do hope they manage to improve themselves before one of them gets killed.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kwahzutah_

Dear Elrond,

I am an incredibly civilized constable who has been assigned the task of solving beheadings in a remote town, despite the fact that the murderer is a headless horseman and thus incapable of being brought to justice. However, I seem to have a problem with fainting too often. I am afraid others may cast me as the heroine instead of a proper hero, as these swoons occur every five minutes. Is there any way to stop these?

Frightened out of his impressive wits,

Constable Ichabod Crane

***

Dear Ichabod,

Well, first things first I would change your name. The one you have now is completely ridiculous and it's really no wonder no one takes you seriously. You should go with a nice, respectable hero name like Tom or Billy. Actually, I hear the name Peter Parker is open—perhaps that tickles your fancy?

To prevent the fainting spells I've sent along a special remedy of mine developed in the First Age. It's a healthy mixture of oregano, lemon juice, Fëanor's toenail clippings, and a secret mushroom sauce my wife made for dinner once. I would recommend mixing this potion with the strongest alcoholic drink you can find.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Dodo,

The vampire called Edward Cullen is obviously a lot weaker minded than you thought, as I have now taken over his mind completely (although he's still in here and keeps whining about his 'beloved'). I believe it may be a side affect of his mind reading capabilities - it makes him particularly vulnerable to my influence.

Now that I have this beautiful new form, I have no use for the rest of the vampire coven, and so I'm sending them to your... employer... to do with what she wishes. Except for Bella - I think the blood thirsty look in Edward's eyes frightened the poor girl, because she ran out of the house screaming and we haven't seen here since.

This may be my last correspondence for a while, as I am currently in the midst of planning complete domination of Earth. Good luck with whatever it is you have planned.

Gleefully  
One Ring to Rule Them All

***

Dear One Ring,

Before we approach the subject of your mind control over a super strong, scintillating studmuffin, let's make one thing perfectly clear. Miss labradorite is _not_, nor will she _ever be_, my employer.

But she says thank you, nonetheless.

I wish you the best of luck when you try to take over the world, but I'd like to forewarn you that I'm sending along my own personal coven of vampire warriors to destroy Edward and bring you back into my possession. Just so you know.

Lord Elrond

P.S: If Bella shows up at the Last Homely House begging for asylum, I will kill you.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aeärwen22_

To: HeadHealer at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: RoyalStudMuffin at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: You're a genius!

Dear Elrond,

Who would have thought that a little blue pill (couldn't they have made it green? Sheesh!) made by Mortals could make such a difference! The Mary Sues who remain are most contented now and back to bickering over who gets to be next, thanks to your sage advice. My Yee hasn't Hawed this well, this long and this often since the days you and me and Galion used to take Ecthelion out on the town. Even the squirrels are nervous.

I'm myself again!

How can I ever thank you? (Within reason, of course. We don't want to give Glorfindel, those *cough*brats*cough* of yours or Erestor - you know, the Imladris Perverts Union - any hints of our true natures, do we? [Thank the Valar that Legolas is dumb as a post!] And don't ask for money - it's SO gauche!)

FWIW, I recently heard of an interesting gymnastics act with five young Haradrim sisters that involves lots of detachable veils, bells on bras and corsets, tiny metal castanets, jumper cables and duct tape. I've invited them to spend a little time here, and I'm certain I have the closet space to house them for a lengthy engagement. Care to join me for a private viewing? Hm? Nudge-nudge?

You could tell Celebrían that you need to make a house-call…

Thranduil - King of the Greenwood-y (Sure is nice to be myself again. Yee Haw!!)

***

To: HeartAttackWaitingToHappen at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: 2Legit2Quit at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: I wonder how we keep getting each other's e-mails…

Dear Thranduil,

I'm quite pleased that your content with the Viagra I sent you—though I feel I should warn you that you shouldn't use it in access. It can be very dangerous. To thank me I suppose I would ask you if you could possibly hide my daughter in your realm? You see, she's returned from Hogwarts, fiery as ever, and Estel _still _wants to marry her. I figure that if she's in Mirkwood by the time he figures out she's there he'll have gotten eaten by a spider or something. Sound good? Let me know what you think.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Celebrían found out quite a long time ago what we four used to get up to (I believe Glorfindel told her, though I don't know how _he_ managed to escape any blame) so I don't think making a house call would work, exactly. I'll squirrel mail you back with my response at a later date.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Luthien Saralonde_

Dear Elrond,

I have been trying to defeat my arch nemesis Sherlock Holmes for the past few years, and every time I draw my net tighter around him and that hare-brained fool of a doctor, he slips out of it, and counters with one of his own.

This is getting quite tiresome really, and it has even begun to give me some of the most terrible migraines. Is there any way I can stop this man, short of tumbling off a cliff into raging waters and taking him with me to almost certain death for the both of us?

Professor Moriarty

P.S. Nice ears.

P.P.S. Oh, and don't tell Holmes about this, because he'll write in to you, too, asking how to defeat me. And if you do...heh. *insert evil chuckle here*

***

Dear Moriarty,

I've recently answered a letter from one Mister Watson, who was asking for advice on how to shock Mister Holmes into a heart attack. If you contacted him I bet you two could figure something out.

Though I'm not entirely sure why you vetoed tumbling off a cliff into raging waters and taking him with you to almost certain death.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Please don't threaten me. Me and my "nice ears" will win at the intimidation game every time.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond, (no, there is nothing endearing about you whatsoever)

I am extremely disappointed to have not received a letter of apology and irritated to see that you insist on propagating infantile lies!

Fortunately for you, Manwë seems to favor you (I cannot fathom why) and has moved me to clemency and remonstrated on your behalf. Therefore, I will not release Fëanor just yet. Instead, I offer you one last chance of salvation.

If I do not receive a letter apologizing for your slanderous behavior and retracting all of your falsifications within the week, you may expect legal action and pyromania. (How would you appreciate it if Fëanor burns your lovely Homely House down?)

Of course, it doesn't end there. I mean, you are aware of how ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE I can make your life AND AFTERLIFE, aren't you?

Bringing doom to you,  
Lord Námo  
Doomsman of the Valar

***

Dear Mandos,

I don't know why you're trying to deny the fact that you still wear cartoon jammies. Really, it's quite endearing. In fact if I'm not much mistaken Ulmo and Tulkas do as well. At least that's what Mithrandir told me. If you feel the need to be irritated, have a beef with Gandalf for spreading your secrets around Middle Earth.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I would not appreciate my house being burnt down at all, considering it is the LAST Homely House and therefore there's not much I could do about it.

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

I do thank you for the advice. I already tried that 'large mask' thing; it kept getting ripped from my face at the most inconvenient moments, causing me to burst into spontaneous lamentations. I will, however look into the plastic surgery. You do realize, however, that this is the year 1870, and that procedures such as that are crude and rudimentary? 'Doctors' still do bloodletting for Pete's sake. Does, eh, Rivendell have a medical facility of sorts that may be able to suit my needs? You people seem to be slightly more civilized over there.

O.G.

PS: The come-ons were flattering, but my chandelier just doesn't swing that way. Sorry.

***

Dear Phantom,

As a healer I can tell you with certainty that Rivendell would indeed be a much better place to get plastic surgery done than 1870's Paris.

That being said, us ethereal and perfect elves have no need of plastic surgery, so it hasn't be invented here yet. Shame.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Can you take your picture off of your personal stationary? I understand that those masks are hard to come by but really, there's no need to subject people to that.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I recently proposed matrimony to the love of my life Miss Elizabeth Bennet, only to have her turn me down cold. (Unfortunately, it seems that 10,000 pounds a year and owning half of Derbyshire are not enough to offset insulting your intended bride and her entire family.) She gave me a very vehement piece of her mind and made it clear that I am the exact opposite of everything she expects to see in a gentleman.

I was recently in the company of one William Turner, a blacksmith from the colony of Jamaica, who informed me that he has written to you a number of letters regarding his own Elizabeth (who strangely resembles Miss Bennet...). I thought therefore that I would write and inquire whether you have any advice for me on how to win back Miss Bennet's heart.

Regards,  
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esq.

***

Dear Mr. Darcy,

First off I would strongly suggest not speaking to Mr. Turner on the topic of love. He managed to accidentally marry himself a tranny and is therefore in no place of offer advice.

To win back Miss Bennet's heart you could simply take the stick out of your ass and apologize, though I think we both know the likelihood of _that_.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

My Dearest Cookie Crumb,

I did not appreciate your love poem to _me_ in the slightest, but I realize that not everyone is as well versed in poetry as I am, and therefore you are forgiven for your unintended insults.

I haven't a love poem for you today, but rather a question. You see, for your begetting day I decided to make you a kite and fly it outside your window with a picture I took of the two of us together, but it won't fly properly! What can I do to make it go up?

Mirror Image

***

_Haldír has, unfortunately, gotten to this letter before Elrond managed to._

Dear Mirror Image,

That's what she said.

Haldír

* * *

**A/N: I'M UPDATING THE VERY NEXT DAY!! DON'T YOU LOVE ME?!?!**


	18. Chapter 18

**So this chapter was done WAY faster than I thought it would be (mostly because of my awesome letter-submitters!) so here you go: something to start your week off with a giggle.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Some time ago, on one of our missions to save the galaxy, my Master and I came across this creepy red and black tattooed guy with these random horns. Apparently he also had anger management issues, as he attacked the two of us on sight. Suffice it to say that an epic two-on-one light saber battle followed, and I was the only one to make it out alive.

The thing is, right before my Master died, he asked me to train this annoying kid that we'd picked up on some Force-forsaken Outer Rim planet. Like an idiot, I agreed. That was almost ten years ago, and not only am I sick of being stuck with this brat, I'm starting to worry about him. The Jedi Council says he's the "chosen one" or some such nonsense, but all he really shows any interest in is the potential for Force Choke classes. On top of that, for the last few years I've been getting recurring nightmares about getting myself killed by an asthmatic black plastic robot wearing a cape. Is there anything I can do about this? (By "this", I am referring to my sorry apprentice.) I'm seriously considering moving to that desert planet and becoming a hermit.

Sincerely,  
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight

***

Dear Obi-Wan,

Speaking as someone who has raised a boy who was not their own and was responsible for their training (be it Force or Orc), I'd like to tell you to first things first hide any daughters that you might have. Is this boy in the running to be the King of Men?

No? Good. Then you can just dump _him_ on that desert planet and go on with your merry way. Don't worry about that dream—dreams often mean absolutely nothing. Especially dreams about shiny gold rings.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

We wonders if Master Elrond can help us find ourselves a girl, precious, yes, we wonders? Mordor Weekly doesn't take our advertisement.

'500 year-old gentleman seeks precious lady for a fun slimy time. We suffers from severe psychological instability and we has dual personalities. Favorite activities includes sloshing in pool (which is nice and cool), and romantic raw dinners in the marshes. Give us a call if precious likes grot and sludge and juicy fissssh.'

Smeagol/Gollum

***

Dear Gollum,

…

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Luthien Saralonde_

Dear Elrond,

What is the air speed velocity of a non-laden swallow, and do coconuts actually migrate?

Sincerely,  
A very confused King Arthur and the "Knights" of the Round Table

***

Dear King Arthur,

Well, before I answer your question, you must bring me a shrubbery. A nice one, but not too expensive.

And then, after you've done that, you have to bring me _another _shrubbery and lay it next to the first one, with a little path down the middle to get the two-level effect.

Maybe then I'll answer your question. But you might want to have a herring on hand just in case.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

Okay, that's it, I've had enough.

I finally tracked down this Edward bloke. Or, at least, I tracked down where he lived – the house looked abandoned, and there was a 'For Sale' sign out the front. No Edward, no Harry, no forwarding address! So, I've decided that I am through with chasing that man all over the creation. If he doesn't want me, it's his loss.

If you hear from him, kindly inform him that I've got divorce papers waiting for him when he gets home. Also, tell him he no longer has a home.

(Signed furiously)  
Ginny Weasley (NOT Potter)  
Soon to be Divorcée

***

Dear Ginny,

Well, Edward is currently being mind-controlled by that mad gold ring I was telling you about, so if he's kidnapped your husband it's possible he didn't know what he was doing…

…But I can't for the life of me figure out what the One Ring would want with Harry…

If I see him, I'll pass on the message. And go get yourself a better husband. I hear Will Turner is open.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I know my wife has been writing into you, and I'd like to apologize for that. I haven't called home in a while but that's only because she gets _so _touchy when I try to make more horcruxes. You see, I recently found out that Edward Cullen was under the control of the One Ring…but that ring is one of my horcruxes.

It just doesn't know it.

So I've been trying to track them down. If you happen to get a hold of them could you please help a brother out?

Thanks,

Harry Potter

* * *

_Idea submitted by Nieriel Raina_

Dear Elrond (aka the Naughty Son),

Did I not raise you better than this? Just because I was not there for you does not mean I am not ashamed of this advice column of yours and all the lewd bits of information I have found out about you in it! I mean, really! Dipping elves in chocolate sauce? And reducing yourself to squirrel mail over using the Giant Eagles! What? Are you ashamed of the fact you have a BIRD in the family?? It figures the good son was the one to choose mortality.

Just so you are aware, I DO get this abominable column every week delivered by your FATHER (who has threatened to disown you after reading something about you, Thranduil and some other MALES in Lindon), so you just might want to be careful what you say in it! He nearly fell off Vingilot! Do you WANT to be to blame for the extinguishing of Gil-Estel??

Hugs and kisses,  
your mother Elwing

P.S. I have been losing feathers lately and itch terribly. I tried a cream from Yavanna, but it turned out to contain poison oak and it only made the problem worse. I've tried laying off eating fish, but being a seagull, it's awfully hard NOT to eat fish! Do you have a remedy for this before ALL my feathers fall out? I swear, Ulmo and what he does for laughs. Elves were not meant to have feathers... sigh.

***

Dear Naneth,

I would like to point out that it is NOT me, but the appalling labradorite, who started this column. In fact, she _types _most of the letters! Sometimes I don't even say the things she puts in there! And don't listen to a thing that ridiculous Thranduil says; he was drunk most of the time and doesn't remember anything that we _actually _did, which is much less scandalous than you think it is.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Lor—er--Your Son Elrond

P.S. I'm pretty sure Elros had a pet squirrel, so HAH.

P.P.S. If you came around HERE once and a while to meet your grandchildren or say hello to your daughter-in-law I could give you something to help with your feathers. As it were, you should try asking whatever creature wrote that letter for you, as I'm fairly sure fish don't have fingers.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, but how many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick? The answer: A LOT. The picking of the pickled peppers by Peter Piper pisses me off because now all we eat are pickled peppers, because Peter Piper picked too many pecks.

In a pickle,

Mrs. Piper

***

Dear Mrs. Piper,

Well, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Go sell some seashells down by the seashore and earn some money to buy some other food.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: PillPusher at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

From: TooPoopedToPop at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

Subject: Why didn't you warn me?

It isn't that I took too many of them, mind you. I do know how to read instructions, you know (unlike my son, who couldn't read the instructions for breathing if they were written on his nose.) It's those damned Sues - they're SO demanding! All they do is argue among themselves and then, when they get to the Royal… erm… Playroom, they bitch at ME because I'm trying to take a nap. My middle name ain't Eveready, ya know! A half-hour is all I ask… This just really isn't fair!

So tell me, o "wise" one, what did you do in those circumstances? I'm assuming, of course, that you wouldn't ship me anything that you haven't fully tested out yourself. Or did you foist them off on me because Celebrían got sick and tired of... Nah. Couldn't be. Not after what Glorfindel said about her and…

Never mind…

As for sending Arwen over, go ahead. Does she require a full-sized closet, or is she willing to room with a couple of Sues? Legolas doesn't seem to be using his walk-in at the moment, so I was thinking that if she wanted privacy, ya know, she'd fit rather well there. Besides, he's so oblivious, he probably wouldn't notice her anyway.

Although if she spent any time actually learning stuff at Hogwarts, I may regret agreeing to this. She didn't take any classes, did she?

But we Elven Rulers (ten inches at least) have to stick together, don't we?

Thranduil - King of the Greenwood (the Yee is willing, but the Haw is weak at the moment, so I'm reduced to a mere YipPee.)

P.S: still awaiting the squirrel mail. Celie didn't nose that something was up, did she? BTW, those ladies are FINE! Just the way we used to like them. (nudge-nudge)

***

To: FiveInchesMaximum at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: IHopeMyMotherIsn'tReadingThis at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: Please don't ask me questions about my sex life.

Dear Thranduil,

I believe the Sue's have an I.Q. of 60 combined, so I daresay someone of your…stature…could outsmart them? Even the father of Legolas (who, let's be honest here, had to get his genes from _somewhere_) should be able to come up with a way to distract them. Throw something shiny into the corner and go take a nap.

I've sent Arwen along. As far as I know she didn't take any lessons…but that potions master is a strange bloke so I wouldn't put anything past her. She's under the impression that Estel is waiting there for her, so just be ready to tackle her to the ground and lock her in a tower somewhere. She packed along quite a few feminine fripperies so she might need a full walk-in; Legolas won't be back for a while, will he? No doubt he'll accompany my foster son on his quest for my daughter, so I don't think it'll be a problem.

Lord Elrond

P.S: My mother wrote me a letter claiming she, er, _noticed _our exchanges, so I don't think coming to visit is the best idea. Knowing her she'll write into Celebrían and I really don't need to deal with that. Thanks for the offer though. If you have any extra…

* * *

_Idea submitted by ougirl93_

Dear Elrond,

Why don't I have any fan girls? And most importantly, what can I do to get some? It doesn't seem quite fair that I'm the only hobbit without a steady following.

Mr. Frodo's got quite a following, but I think that might have something to do with his big blue eyes and the way he looks like a hurt dog everytime he gets sad, and his full pouty lips, and the way he says, "Oh, Sam,"--AHEM.

And Merry and Pippin of course have their fans, but that's only because good at making the girls laugh. And Pippin's got this strange accent going on, too. They just bring a bit of relief to the whole Ring Destroying Middle-earth thing. Plus, I hear fan girls like Billy Boyd.

But other than these superficial qualities, what do Frodo, Merry, and Pippin have on me? After all, I'm Samwise the Brave! I'm loyal and noble, and not to mention ENTIRELY humble! I've just been growing a bit restless lately, with all the girls following the other hobbits around all the time. Is there anything I can do to get them to like me better?

Samwise Gamgee

***

Dear Sam,

I think you _do _have fangirls, my dear boy. Though, they may only be fans because they believe you and Frodo are gettin' it on in the mountains, but beggars can't be choosers.

Besides—you're marrying that Rosie girl soon, aren't you? I don't think she'll enjoy having screaming teenagers from Earth sleeping in your garden and stealing things out of your sock drawer. Celebrían certainly isn't a fan.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

Would you please tell that minstrel of yours, Lindir, I believe, to stop singing R&B? It drove Lothíriel absolutely insane last time you folks came to visit. I mean, I understand how much he looks up to Ne-Yo and his lyrical genius, but honestly. He's much better suited to a lyre and lore.

Éomer King

***

Listen, Homey-G,

I can't help it if my dawg L-izzle wants to be all up in your crib, singin' and showin' off his bl-ing!

…isn't that how the kids today are talking?

Anyways. I'll talk to him for you.

Lord El to the Rond.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I understand that you have my brother, Haldír, currently under your employment. I get that labradorite is a demanding little bitch and that the possibility of her letting him come home (I escaped, by the way. It took weeks to plan out though) is slim to none, but I'd like it if you could try your best to send him back as soon as possible.

It's not that I'm in any hurry to deal with my arrogant oldest brother, it's just that his fangirls have been bugging the snot out of me and Rúmil and I'd like it if he could just satisfy them all and get them out of our hair.

Thanks,

Orophin

***

Dear Brother,

I am not interested in coming home. I love it at labradorite's house and even more than that I love being her personal slave. Please tell the Lord and Lady of the Wood that I will not be returning and that Galadriel can go f--:LSDJF :OUP#(U$#()*b $y*lgj"lkrewh :f:sdjf:sjf!!

_Haldír, quickly catching on to labradorite and Elrond's collective efforts, has taken control of the keyboard._

Okay, Orophin, I'm on my way back as soon as possible. Tell the fangirls (there are some Mary Sue's too, aren't there? Thranduil said he sent me some as a begetting day present) that I'll be back soon, so please keep their pants on.

Actually, please insert the word "don't" before the word "keep" in that last part. Thanks.

Haldír

* * *

**A/N: Reviewers get one Elf/Ranger/Hobbit-servant to do their bidding and errands for one week (ONE WEEK.)! **


	19. Chapter 19

**I've had this chapter done for a while but my internet was out XD Sorry!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Thw White Rose_

Dear Elrond,

I heard about your advice column from a strange little squirrel carrying a bunch of letters...Anyway, I have a bit of a problem and was wondering if you might have any suggestions as to how to remedy this rather troublesome nuisance.

I am constantly being tracked, hunted, and in general terrorized by these little hairless creatures called humans. They have these loud, fast-moving machines that they travel in and weapons that make a distinct BANG and are quite painful. They won't leave me alone! All I want is some peace and quiet, but they are incessantly attempting to shoot me or catch me on video. (I don't know what that means; I just over heard it once).

So, if you happen to know of any immediate solutions to my problem (I've tried moving, but that takes a long time and they only follow me!), then please, for the love of pine cones, tell me!

Sincerely,  
A very disgruntled Big Foot

***

Dear Big Foot,

I'm so sorry about your problem. The best thing you can do, I think, is shack up with one of your other fictional friends and stop wandering the wilderness. Do you have the toothfairy's number? Or maybe the Easter Bunny's? I know it might seem like a booty call but I bet if you just explain the situation then all will be well.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by sectimsempra_

Dear Elrond,

I am having a bit of trouble getting a girl. I was wondering if you could possibly help. Her name is Ginny Weasley. I don't think she likes me because I accidentally tried to kill her in her first year. Unfortunately, The-Boy-Who-Won't-Die has stolen her heart. Any tips?

Sincerely,

Lovesick Dark Lord

***

Dear Voldemort,

First things first you need to grow a nose and get some colored contacts. Red is _not_ a very welcoming eye color.

After you've done that you just need to kill her boyfriend. Now, I realize that it's going to be hard for the most evil wizard of all time to kill a 17 year old drop out…but if you think happy thoughts and clap three times while standing on your head, it should work.

And if all that doesn't work, give Sauron a call and see if he can help you. But please keep in mind he's been defeated a few times (once by a three feet tall, hairy footed, mushroom loving creature, so that shows you how powerful he _really _is) so he might not be much help to you.

Good—er—Best wishes!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: YourMothersASeagull at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: TenInchesWannaSee at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Remind me never to give your children shelter again

Dear Elrond,

I regret to inform you that your daughter did indeed take classes at Hogwarts. I cannot begin to describe the chaos that has descended on my peaceful Hall upon her arrival. Half of my Mary Sues are missing (not the cutest ones, true, and it IS making it easier to keep up a steady pace, as it were - a good thing, come to think of it!) But there has also been an appalling number of snakes and lizards suddenly roaming the corridors that my servants have had to toss (very gently - don't want to injure the poor things) back out into the forest where they belong.

Also, the Haradrim sisters had a HUGE argument after meeting her, and two of them decided to take their act elsewhere. I aimed them at Imladris and sent a couple of warriors who deserved a treat along to make sure they made it there safely. Never let it be said that I'm stingy! (Lemme tell ya, even with only two, that act is a definite gotta-see!! nudge-nudge.)

But the worst of it was when I found my poor, loyal Galion sitting on the floor next to Legolas' chamber door, banging his head on the wall. I checked, and he didn't even smell of alcohol at all, so he hasn't been into the Dorwinion again. He won't tell me why - isn't talking to me at all, as a matter of fact - so any advice on this?

I swear, harboring your Magical Mayhem Maiden (why, o why, did I think she would have been any different from those twin brats of yours?) has been a nightmare - which means all of this is YOUR fault. You. Owe. Me. Turkey.

As for your idea of tossing shiny things in the corner and taking a nap – I woulda tried that, but you - you bugger - had to take the best piece of bling around and decide to recast it as cufflinks for Erestor. Don't bother to deny it. Celebrían has been pampering that Noldoran skank for Ages, right along with His Golden Flowerness himself. Those black thongs are of the highest quality for a very good reason, I assure you!

Thranduil - King of the Greenwood (and I _didn't_ fail the Elven Ruler test - maybe that "Master" at the front of your title means that you _DID_?! Oh, just wait until I hit Valinor and tell the guys!)

P.S. Ain't my fault you started this silly column and your folks read it. Ever heard the saying "be careful what you wish for?" And leave Legolas' genes out of it - at least his aren't aligned "Chaotic Evil" like YOUR progeny! I'll take "Lawful Oblivious" any day!!

***

To: YourMotherWasAHamster at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: NeverNeededViagra at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: That sword of yours is so long and shiny! It's almost like you're… compensating for something.

Dear Thranduil (or Butt Monkey, as I call you at home),

I'm really sorry about Arwen. She always had her grandmother's aptitude for magical whatnots and I should have expected that she would blackmail that greasy-haired boyfriend of hers into lessons. Truly, that's a bummer. As compensation, I've sent along my two sons (I know how much you adore them) to help control her! Won't that be fun?

Thank you for sending those sisters towards my realm. Hopefully they arrive when "Celie" is out and about with her girlfriends…I would hate to have to explain that.

And I think that Elladan and Elrohir will come up with something to…er…snap Galion back into reality. Dontcha think? They managed to scare the twice-born Balrog-slayer out of depression, so I'm not worried.

Lord Elrond (who didn't need a _King _at the front of his title to compensate for his lack of—)

P.S: You're just jealous because I have smexy, yummilicious advisors. If you wanted to borrow them all you had to do is ask. Or you could come work for me and have Celebrían spoil you, too.

But you'd have to call me "Master" and be happy about it.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

I can't believe I'm abusing my dignity by asking you for help and advice, but desperate times warrant desperate measures. Vairë is giving me migraines. Apparently, she's tired of weaving for Ages and also thinks me to be a poor spouse and is quite angry. Whenever she enters into a fit of temper, she shreds her own works - the history of Arda no less! I've tried to intervene, but I usually lose a limb, and the fëar are getting quite annoyed about this business as believe me, my Halls are no longer the tranquil abode they once were.

What's more, she's recently threatened to weave ME into her tapestries – and she's probably not joking. Confronted with this threat to my sanity and possibly, my continued existence, I seek your counsel.

What am I to do?

And also, if I become a permanent fixture of Vairë's weaving, who should I select to assume control of the Halls? (I'm thinking of Tulkas)

Lord Námo

P.S: Help me now, and all is forgiven. Or better yet, help me now, and I'll cash you in for a few favors when you come around. Does a few thousand years less of waiting in the Halls and other privileges appeal to you? I'll even speak with Ulmo about changing your mother back to her normal form.

P.P.S: So that pesky little Olórin has been telling ALL of Endor our secrets? He's to return to Valinor very soon. What would you say to striking his Grey Ship with multiple lightning bolts while it's at Sea?

P.P.P.S: Alright, the cartoon pajamas are true. But please don't broadcast it any further. A Spongebob enthusiast isn't good image for a Doomsman.

***

Dear Mandos,

Okay, but I'm only going to help you because you let Glorfindel free to come and babysit my kids.

Is it possible that your wife is PMS-ing? I find myself quite often kicked out onto the couch and taking a lot of deep breaths when I encounter such a thing with the elleth in my life. Wait a few weeks and, if things don't improve, tell her you're going to pull a mid-life crisis and she'll probably calm down. Females are impossible sometimes.

P.S: I haven't told anyone else about Spongebob…but it's possible labradorite did, so when you get a chance to smite her I would take it.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lehalia_

Dear Elrond,

I am currently a museum night guard, and I think I'm finally starting to crack. Every night for several months, all of the artifacts at night come alive, and I'm stuck nearly getting eaten by lions which are supposed to be stuffed! Do you have any treatments for my insanity?

Sincerely,  
Larry Daley  
Night Guard at The Museum of Natural History

***

Dear Larry,

That's really cool! I would recommend buying some raw steaks and giving _those _to the lions instead…and maybe you can pair up with Teddy Roosevelt and that Native American chick and solve your problem? Oh, and maybe some midget cowboys, too. Just for fun.

Best of luck! I hope you don't get eaten!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Well, I think you know by now that I'm currently being controlled by the One Ring, but he went off to get some Starbucks (Harry Potter came by acting very strangely…do you know what's up?) and left me to my own devices for a few short minutes. So I figured I write in a problem I've been having.

You see, I have really dry skin (I didn't know vampires could have that problem, either), and my sister Alice went and bought me some lotion. Unfortunately, the only lotion the store had was the sparkly, glittery scented kind. This wasn't a problem until I met Bella, and had to come up with a reason for why I sparkle all the time. I managed to tell her that all vampires sparkle in the sunlight and that we just smell good to attract prey, and she bought it; however, CVS has discontinued that lotion and I can't find any others that give that same effect.

So now I have the dilemma of both trying to explain that to my wife and going without my favorite lotion. Help!

Edward Cullen

***

Dear Edward,

Why is it that stores _always_ discontinue our favorite brands? I remember Erestor had this gorgeous lipstick color that looked absolutely _phenomenal _on him and when he…

Never mind. To be honest with you, I think your wife is a total dumbass, but I get what you're saying. The One Ring has control over you, right? (Though if Harry Potter has his way…) You could just tell Bella Dumber-Than-A-Swan that it's because of that.

Or you could eat her. Whichever.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I'm head over heals in love with the Lady Éowyn! Her beauty and skill with a blade knock my socks off and gives me fell beast bumps!

Anyway every time I try to get close enough to speak with her about this, she keeps yelling "I am no man!" and stabbing me in the face with her sword.

Do you have any suggestions that would help me get past this? I really want to let her know how I feel and to show that under this dark and handsome exterior beats the heart of a cuddly teddy bear for her.

I anxiously await your reply.  
Lord of the Nazgul

***

_Elrond started giggling like a school-girl when he read this letter (Celebrían was quite disturbed) and very unwisely let Haldír and labradorite write the response._

Okay, creepy-one. We have some pick-up lines for you to try out:

I lost my teddy bear…can I sleep with you?

Do you know what has 110 teeth and can beat The Incredible Hulk? _What? _My zipper.

I wish I was a derivative so I could lay tangent to your curves.

Did it hurt? _Did what hurt? _When you fell from heaven.

Are you tired? Because you've been running through my mind all day.

Is that a mirror in your pants? Because I see myself in them.

I don't care if they're fake—they look fantastic.

Do you work at Little Caesars? Because you're hot and I'm ready.

How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice!

Girl, you got a jersey? 'Cause I need yo number!

You must work at a subway, 'cause you just gave me a footlong!

Have I seen your picture before? Oh, yeah, in the dictionary under KABLAM!

Did you know the alphabet is wrong? U and I are supposed to be together.

Good thing I have a library card, because I'm checking you out!

If I flip this coin, what are the chances of me getting head?

Good luck! Remember: sex on the first date is tacky.

Love, Haldír and labradorite

P.S: If all of those fail, you could always start with the very lame and elusive "Hi. How are you today?" but that one is for pussies.

* * *

Dearest El to the Rond (is that really what you want to be called, darling? I can whisper it in your ear at night),

Baby, I was just wondering…did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Love,

Mirror Image

***

_Elrond was too busy beating Haldír to a pulp and chasing labradorite around the house with a wooden spoon to reply. Please stand by._

* * *

**A/N: I had to text everyone in my address book to get those pick-up lines. I hope you all appreciated them.**

**Oh, and a warning. Don't use those pick-up lines. I take no responsibility for drinks being thrown in your face or scathing looks in bars.**

**Due to the UNBEARABLY hot weather (who gave permission for it to be 95 degrees out? Seriously?) the reward for a review is a popsicle Elf/Ranger/Rohirrim/Hobbit! Any flavor you want!****06/27/09 **

* * *

**Hello, everyone! Today is June 27th, 2009, and if you're reading this it's because you've been enjoying _Ask Elrond_. I'm putting this quick author's note up to let everyone know that I'm going to be gone on vacation from June 28th until July 4th (it sucks, I know. I wanted to have a BBQ and set off fireworks) and won't have access to any computer. I wanted to tell you lovely readers so you knew I wasn't abandoning you :)**

**Chapter 20 of _Ask Elrond _is nearly finished and will be published when I return. I hope you have a great week!**

**Love,**

**Veronica**


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm baaaaaaackkk! I had a lovely vacation and am ready and rearing to go! Hope you all had a great week :)**

**And onward we go!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lehalia_

Dear Elrond,

I am one of the greatest archeologists of all time. So far, I have rediscovered the Lost Ark, braved my way through the Temple of Doom, retrieved the Holy Grail, and even faced Aliens as an old man. All through these adventures, I have been injured, hoodwinked, and gotten fame beyond my wildest dreams. The only problem is that I am deathly afraid of snakes. Do you have any tips that will relieve my fear? 'Cause I kind of have a thing with girls going on, and I don't want to look cowardly.

Yours truly,  
Indiana Jones

***

Dear Illino—Indiana,

You're afraid of snakes? That's really sad. I don't understand how you've managed all this time…but then again, Erestor is deathly afraid of spiders and he manages all right…

Anyways. You're pretty old now, and it's time to retire. I see no point is curing your phobia since you're going to bring in a younger, worse-acting replacement soon. If it _really _bothers you then I would not suggest moving anywhere like Florida or the desert. Settle down somewhere nice and cool…like Michigan or Washington.

You might have to change your name, though, if you move to Michigan. I have a feeling they wouldn't take too kindly to that.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Fortunately I have been able to avoid consummating my marriage to Elizabeth with a honeymoon night, and I don't think I have to tell you how ticked off that has made her/him.

Unfortunately, I was just told by her/him now that she/he had slipped something called Viagra into my rum. Something she/he said she/he got from a King Thranduil whoever he is. He is a he right? I ask this since hanging around Elizabeth is starting to make me confused about people's genders.

Anyway, I can tell by her/his lustful grinning that I'm about to be doing some intense consummating if I don't find an antidote for this Viagra.

Do you know of any and if so could you send it ASAP?

Will Turner

***

Dear Will,

As far as I know there is not antidote for Viagra, but instead I have sent labradorite and my twin sons along to help you. They should arrive soon (and labradorite wanted me to mention that she can help you with your…er…problem…once she gets there) and be able to sedate "Elizabeth" so you're free to escape.

I hope they get there in time. Those tranny's are unpredictable creatures.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Lord Elrond

I wish to correct an assumption that appears to prevail amongst your readership that you people invented slash. May I point out that these spurious accusations were made against myself and my esteemed Captain Kirk some considerable time ago, even before there was an internet on which to post such illogical and emotional human fiction. I would be grateful if as one pointy eared person to another you could keep this in mind.

Yours sincerely  
Commander Spock

P.S: It's been 7 years since I last dated and I understand you have a rather attractive daughter - Any chance of a half Vulcan and a half Elf forming an alliance?

***

Dear er…Spock,

Well, let's be honest here. Your pointy ears don't _really _count. And (I can't believe I'm defending this) my people have been around _thousands _of years longer than yours, so if _anyone _inspired slash it was us.

Though that isn't exactly something to brag about.

And if you can answer these questions three (not four, nor two) then you can marry my daughter. WHAT is your favorite color? WHAT…oh, wait. That isn't your movie. Sorry.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Henora_

Dear Elrond,

Okay, so I'm in love with this girl, but I'm not writing in about that. She's becoming a nun (I think it's because of something I said, though I can't be sure) so instead I am desperately in love with this _other _girl, but our families hate each other (f---ing Capulet's) with a burning passion. Nevertheless, I am trying to attempt to figure out a way we can finally be with each other in peace. Any tips?

Yours truly,  
Romeo Montague

***

Dear Romeo,

Well, unfortunately I think you only have one solution. First, get married in secret even though she's engaged. Then, have Juliet pretend she's dead while you mistake her for _really _deceased and then kill yourself next to her only to have her wake up and find you dead and off herself too.

Sound good? I know it's not an ideal plan but I really can't think of any other way for you to be together.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sectimsempra_

Dear Elrond,

The Uruk-Hai Nudists camp would like to file a complaint. Several days ago, a small party walked into our encampment and killed several members on Amon Hen. We managed to kill one, and capture two, but the remaining crashers fled before we could do anything about them. You will be getting calls from our team of lawyers any day now.

The Uruk-Hai Nudist Colony

***

To Whom it May Concern,

……………you have a Uruk-Hai _nudist _colony?

…

I have no reply for this letter.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: PinFeathersArePuny-SeagullsSuck at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: ChestHairIsSexy-HamstersRule at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: And you know All About having to compensate, don't you?

Dear Jerk-in-Chief (or JackAss, as you're known here in the Greenwood),

Sure! Send the Brats From Angmar along! I've emailed Galadriel to get Estel to take a little side-trip north when he hits Lothlórien with the Hobbits and Legolas. After getting across those mountains, I'm certain he could use a short vacation, and it will be well to see my son in person again – however briefly. I've set aside an entire tunnel section for the Elronnionnath Reunion, and will have it catered. Won't that be lovely? Maybe somewhere along the way - or during the recovery period - Galion will decide speaking to me is the lesser of the two evils. Either that or he'll become a Tenth Walker, in which case the Canon Nazis will be all over your ass. Then again, better you than me!

What? You mean you didn't WANT Arwen to get together with Estel after all? Well hush my mouth and fill it with lembas! Unfortunately, deposits with the caterer and the dwarven tunneling crew have already been paid, and the wine and linens have been delivered. Can't stop the freight-train now, bubba. Sorry. Isn't it amazing the things I forget when I have to deal with your two Nazgûls-in-training as well as your Ungoliant-wannabee.

FWIW, if Celie notices those two Haradrim girls, tell her they are begetting gifts for your…um…sons--yeah! From Erestor! (He'll cover for the both of us, if he knows what's good for him!) That should get her off your case! And of course, because your sons are over HERE, you'll have to house the dear girls until they get back, won't you? See how easy that is? (Nudge-nudge)

Then again, it takes a Real King to know how to be devious - and with only three inches on a good night, you simply ain't one (a Real King OR devious.)

By the way, thanks for the job offer; and while I'm certain I would enjoy sha… I mean… allowing Celie to pamper me too, and could easily call you Master without snickering TOO much, I'm fairly sure you'd rather I keep my considerable animal magnetism to my side of the Hithaeglir. Wouldn't want all those yummilicious advisors (not to mention your wife) following me home, now, would we? (Even if I do buy Erestor nicer makeup than you do, and make sure Glorfindel's thongs are of the finest raw silk. I even bet that Celie would start sighing "Oh God!" regularly just like the fangirls in no time…) Not that I'd mind the influx, mind you; but I just REALLY don't have the closet-space…

Thranduil - King of the Greenwood (keep telling yourself you don't need that "King" at the front of your name, Bozo. Say it often enough and loud enough, and you just _might_ start to believe it.)

P.S: Love to the Seagull and the Nightlight *waves*

***

To: IllegitimateChildCreator at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: IHaveARingOfPower at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Aren't you worried about getting one of those Sue's pregnant?

Dearest Fart-Face,

You know, it does me good to see how modest and humble you are. Isn't it nice to know that the King of Mirkwood has the best interests of his people at heart?

I think you're underestimating how satisfied I keep my woma—er—wife. Just give her a ring and we'll see who gets better reviews.

Though you can still send along those sisters. At least it'll get Erestor and Glorfindel off my back. They really _are _demanding ever since Celebrían bought them those nice begetting day presents from you.

I don't even want to talk about my children. I've sent along a few reliable resources to stop Estel from reaching your wood in time and will hopefully have my twins sons collect Arwen before the month is up. Then maybe we can stop talking. Forever.

Love,

Lord Elrond—Wearer of Vilya, an Elven Ring of Power (and also the elf who gave you Viagra, so don't you forget it)

P.S: Some of your Sue's just wrote me asking for some birth control…which makes me wonder—what were you using before? I can't think of a worse combination for a child than your looks and their brains *shudders*

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

We were quick to hear about Námo's success in dealing with his domestic troubles after following your advice. (Thank Eru! There would be upheaval in the world...can you imagine what terrible things could have happened if Námo became fabric and the Halls of Mandos became the Halls of Tulkas??)

He was also kind enough to refer us to you should we seek counseling. In fact, we wish to complain about a certain difficult and troublesome sibling of ours and seek your advice on how to deal with him.

Námo, whom you know as Mandos:

1) Has never told a joke in his entire (Ages-long) existence.  
2) Never says anything or talks about anything except Doom...Doom...Doom...everything always ends in Doom.  
3) If he ever smiled, his face would fall off (literally)  
4) If he ever pitied or displayed compassion, his heart would splinter into pieces.  
5) Is mean and unfriendly to everyone he encounters. (We are starting to understand why Vairë couldn't stand him after all these thousands of years...)  
6) Never attends family reunions (The two of us get quite lonely!)

What do we do about him?

With appreciation,  
Lady Nienna and Lord Irmo (Most call me Lórien)

P.S: We have heard of the plight of the Elves and the suffering and tribulations they endure at the hands of this human...labradorite. If you help us, we will speak with Manwë on your behalf and have him send Eonwë and the Host of Valinor to free you from bondage.

***

Dear Nienna and Irmo,

Please do something about labradorite. It's getting out of control. She was gone last week (thank Eru) but is now back and busy being annoying again. HELP!

Anyway, I'm sorry but there's no way in hell I'm going to give you advice on this. I can be plenty snarky when the Valar write in about their own problems but I just can't justify sneaking behind Mandos' back. Nuh-uh. No way no how.

You could always get together with his wife and stage an intervention. Or you could just steal his cartoon jammies (I bet he has matching sheets!) but you didn't hear that from me.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Cocoalata_

Dear Elrond,

I hate doing this, but I'm afraid I have to send you this letter. Luckily, I met a really cute squirrel (I think I'm going to name him Edward) and he claims he can deliver it to you. I hope that is true. You see, I was very happy with my husband Edward, at least until the day that he brought this ugly gold ring home, that is. He got obsessed with that thing, making me wear it on a necklace and generally being creepy. Anyway, a few days later, Edward ripped the ring off my neck and put it on. I was without the necklace, that was the positive. The negative was that at that very moment, his eyes got red and blood-thirsty and I ran away. Now I am in a forest with nothing but trees, deer and this squirrel here. As I have already met evil vampires and werewolves in this very forest, I am very averse to the situation. Besides, I haven't showered or changed my clothes in quite a while. What can I do?

Bella Swan

***

Dear Bella,

For starters, you can stop being so effing annoying and put an end to your story before it gets worse (if that's possible). Secondly, just keep wandering around for a while. If you get lost and die, I doubt anyone would miss you.

That's all the advice I have for you.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Oh, if you see Edward, send him my way. Harry Potter and I need to have a word with him.

* * *

Mon Petit Chou, you are breaking my heart.

Happiness is a warm teddy. Birds sing, the sky is blue; everything blooms when I'm with you. Even the brightest summer day pales beside your glowing beauty. Are you thinking of me as I'm thinking of you? I know we are soul mates. If you drop the restraining order, I promise to stop stalking you! Remember that time at the beach when we.... oh, wait, that wasn't you. Please love me! Thanks for always being there... it's meant so much to me. Don't ever go away, my darling. My day is empty without you.

Marry Me!  
Mirror Image

***

_Elrond just sighed and left the computer while Haldír enthusiastically sat down in his place. _

Dear Mirror Image, wanna snuggle?

Come to me, baby. Is that a calculator in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? I still have the pictures, but I promise not to sell them to the National Enquirer! I promise that on our first date, I'll bring the pizza. When I look at you, I can't help but think what smart, beautiful children we'd make. Let's make like WWF wrestlers and get into a clinch. Remember that time at the beach when we.... oh, wait, that wasn't you. Come back to meeeee... I'll leave the key under the mat and I'll muzzle the dog. I thought I'd play along with this instead of fighting it. If you can't beat 'em...

Your honey bunny,

Haldír

* * *

**A/N: I'm not super fond of this chapter…I think being away from the story left me a little shell shocked. I promise to step it up! I'm working on the finale (*cackles*) so if you guys have anything in particular you really want to see, let me know.**

**For reviews…hmm…you can have Elf/Ranger/Hobbit/Rohirrim/Gondorion/Etc massage therapists! Yum. Your choice of scented oils!**


	21. Chapter 21

**I just wrote over 60 thank you notes. My hands hurt. A lot.**

**A huge thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter! It was a great way to wake up after a verrrrry unfortunate evening and I wanted to make sure you guys know that you made my day :)**

**Enjoy the next installment!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Sectimsempra_

Dear Elrond,

I have recently discovered small tasty creatures with strangely fuzzy feet. I have not been able to find more. If you would be so kind as to FedEx a few my way, I would be very grateful.

Shelob

P.S. One of these creatures stabbed me with a glowing, blue toothpick. If you could send a bottle of Aspirin and a band-aid as well, I'd be grateful for that as well.

***

Dear Shelob,

I don't have any of those creatures on hand anymore (I sent the only ones we had on a death mission) but if you go to that lovely place called Mirkwood there will be some pretty blond elves for you to feast on.

Tell Thranduil who sent you, please.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Earendilion_

Dear Elrond,

I am not so much asking for your advice as your friendly input. I, of course, need neither; I am merely curious to see for myself what all the hype is about.

So, what say you to the fact that I have been unjustly accused, labeled, stereotyped, and locked in Mandos for the past several millennia? I made the Silmarils – I won't pretend to be modest. Morgoth stole them. And yet, I get all the blame for the ensuing events. My only intention was to exercise my property rights and take back what had been stolen. Was it my fault it required a remarkably binding oath to convince others to help me, as was their duty? Was it my fault the Teleri got in the way? It was I, after all, who engineered their bloody ships, and so I basically owned them anyway. But I never get credit for making them work, do I? No. Nothing.

Now that you have been enlightened, what would you say were I to ask for your advice? Not that I need it? Not that I am asking for it? I am only curious.

Skeptically,  
A Misunderstood Fëanor

***

Fëanor,

I have no sympathy for you because, quite simply, it _is _your entire fault. Kinslaying, the fall of Gondolin, those burning ships…I mean, seriously, your poor wife. I can only imagine what she had to put up with you. I bet it was like living with Gollum.

You know what, Fëanor, if you had just kept your stupid mouth shut instead of pretty much selling your soul to find those stupid gemstones, this wouldn't have been an issue. Instead I have to deal with your complaining (I don't understand how Mandos puts up with you).

Give Nerdanel my regards,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I've lost my sheep and don't know where to find them. Any ideas?

Little Bo Peep

***

Dear Little Bo Peep,

Leave them alone, and they'll come home, wagging their tails behind them.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I seem to be having trouble with my memory. I was recently on a very important mission to save my friends' son and was completely unable to help due to my uncontrollable—

Whoa. Wait. You _have _to see this. A purple sea monkey just…

Love, Dori

***

Dear Dori,

Well, I'm glad you found Nemo. As for your problem, I suggest—

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Henora_

Dear Elrond,

I am scared out of my wits! I don't know where I am, strange people seem to follow me wherever I go, and this horrid witch, who has no taste in shoes whatsoever (red ruby slippers against her outfit? Ugh! And that hideous nose does not go with the rest of her face!) keeps harassing me! I only want to get home, but it seems that every time I come close to going back, I keep getting attacked! Can you please tell me how to get out of the Land of Oz?

Certainly not in Kansas anymore  
Dorothy Gale

***

Dear Dorothy,

Well, you need to follow the yellow brick road for starters. Though it would help if you gathered some friends along the way to help you get out of trouble; I'm thinking…a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion? Sound good? Good. Then go see the wizard (the wonderful wizard of oz) and hopefully he'll boot your asses out of there.

Good luck! Remember: there really is _no _place like home.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I am the host of a popular children's show and am responsible for teaching three-year-olds Spanish. I also am forced to go on completely ridiculous adventures, trying to save nonsensical, fictional objects. But that's not really why I'm writing in.

You see, I have obsessive-compulsive disorder. Since I work on Nick Junior, no one has become aware yet. However, my compulsion to repeat everything numerous times and to sing with a booted monkey might start to be noticed son. Please help!

Dora the disgruntled Explorer

***

Dear Dora,

First, you need to go up the TAAAAALLLLLL mountain! And then…over the LOOOONNNNNG bridge! Then, through the MAAAAGGGIC tunnel! And then to the MYSTICAL castle!!

…Mountain! Bridge! Tunnel! CASTLE!!

…Mountain! Bridge! Tunnel! CASTLE!!!!!

SWIPER NO SWIPING!! SWIPER NO SWIPING!!

…

…MOUNTAIN!! BRIDGE!!! TUNNEL!!! CASTLE!!!!

…MOUNTAIN!!! BRIDGE!!! TUNNEL!!! CAST—OOMPHASPDFJAO;JFLDSFK _(Galadriel thought it was time to intervene. Please stand by.)_

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

As the only unmarried Lord of the West, I have become quite lonely for Ages! I have been seeking Nienna's attention since millenia before your birth (And it's so SWEET that she cries all the time! She can fill my waters anyday!) and have been so far unsuccessful. I have attempted tricks with my sea animals to amuse her (Be a good dolphin and jump through the hoop! That's right!) and when everything else failed, I displayed my scariest self (You guys are scared of Morgoth? Seriously? You've obviously never seen me...WAVES TOWERING ABOVE THE MOUNTAINS, BOOMING THUNDER, LIGHTNING FLASHES...you get the picture, don't you?) to intimidate her but only made her weep more.

Please help me fulfill this soon-to-be blooming romance and I will do anything (not to be taken literally!) for you.

Waiting in the darkest depths of romantic anxiety,  
Lord Ulmo

P.S: I am truly sorry about your mother, but the woman was about to jump off a cliff! Seriously! What else was I supposed to do??

P.P.S: We have enlisted the help of Indiana Jones in locating the portal to Earth. The Host of Valinor is on the way!

***

_Haldír, who for some reason has a problem with Lord Ulmo, graciously offered to write this response._

Dear Lord Ulmo,

I'm going to refer you to someone I think can help. They go by the name "Mirror Image" and are quite good at wooing. Best of luck to you!

Haldír

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dearest Daddy

I can't believe that you sent me to my room for stealing Glory's horse. It would never have happened if you and let me have a pony of my own. That little blonde slut Éowyn has a whole kingdom full of the things and she's trying to steal my Ary-Wary (I'm going to marry him so there!). Anyway if you don't get me a pony and let me marry my adopted brother I'll scream and scream till I'm sick.

Your precious Princess  
Arwen

***

Dear Arwen,

You are over 2,000 years old. Please act your age and not your shoe size. I _have _given you ponies, but you keep trying to ride them when clearly you are too tall, and therefore I have to confiscate them before permanent damage is done.

Scream all you want, dearest; you're still in Mirkwood and not even _your _generous lung capacity can reach all the way to Imladris.

Lord Elr—Ada

P.S: I've sent this letter along to Celebrían who is, rightly so, not pleased with your behavior. Beware.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth _

Dear Lord Elrond,

Your intervention with labradorite and your twin sons was a success! The twins sedated Elizabeth in her/his bare rear with a dart thingy before she/he could ravish me on the bed since by then the Viagra had me unable to resist her/him further.

Your sons managed to remove Elizabeth (there were some _very _odd snipping noises coming from the other room…) And meanwhile labradorite had been busy tying me down to the bed the whole time saying what she was about to do was for my own good. I vaguely remember starting to ask her why until I noticed she now had not a stitch of clothing on and the same look of lust on her face that Elizabeth had given me earlier.

After that all I can recall is a great amount of pleasure and labradorite shouting something akin to "Ride 'em cowgirl!" Then I passed out. When I woke up labradorite was gone, and I was free—well sort of; I now have on this cool black leather collar with a tag proclaiming me as her property.

Anyway, I want to thank her, you and your twins for the help! My life is so much the better because of it!

Will Turner

***

Dear Will,

That really was TMI into labradorite's sex life. But then again living with her I've seen some very strange things, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Anyway, you're welcome and I'm glad you're "free" (though I feel I should warn you that wearing leather collars is _so _1980's).

labradorite says to feel free to come over for dinner "and them some" anytime. I disagree with this offer, but there you go.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I recently decided to vacation in Middle Earth (I've heard it was a lovely place if you ignore the stench) and came upon a lovely little country-side inhabited by the most adorable little creatures. They were very small and had (admittedly disgusting) hairy feet and ran around drinking and singing and talking about their family trees all the time. What a fun little group!

However, upon my stay, all of the children (I assume they were because they're all so small it was hard to tell) followed me around calling me "Gandalf" and asking for fireworks. I did my best to please them with some clever little spells I learned from Fred and George Weasley, but they seemed quite disappointed with them. I haven't the foggiest idea why the cuties were upset, and I'd like an explanation.

Always,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

***

Dear Dumbledore,

Err…I thought you died. How are you writing to me?

No matter. I hope your vacation is going well and that you enjoyed the Shire. I haven't any good response for you except that you greatly resemble the wizard Gandalf the Grey and I assume the little hobbits figured that anyone in robes with a beard was him.

You should stop by Imladris, as there is a young man with messy black hair here who I'm sure would like to see you, and even Gandalf stops by once and a while. His fireworks really are something to see, just wait!

Hope to see you soon,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by SecretlyInInk_

Dear Master Elrond,

Master says Dobby should not write to you, but Dobby must because Dobby heard you are an elf too. Master does not let Dobby wear any clothes and never gives Dobby the required 15-minute lunch break.

Does your master let you wear clothes, Lord Elrond? If he does, please... adopt Dobby. Mister Harry Potter gave Dobby the loveliest socks and it is a shame that Dobby cannot wear them.

Please help Dobby,  
Dobby the House Elf

***

Dear Dobby,

For the record, it is improper grammar to speak constantly in the third person, and by doing so you greatly remind me of one gentleman Gollum, and that is not a good thing.

Anyways, you can feel free to come live here (I have no "master" to either allow me or prevent me from wearing clothes, but I understand what you're saying) and you may stay as long as you like. I will not adopt you because, frankly, I already have too many children to deal with and do not need another.

Hope to see you soon! It's a _Chamber of Secrets_ reunion over here!

Lord Elrond

P.S: I feel obligated to tell you that your idea of an elf and _my _idea of an elf are probably very different.

* * *

_Idea submitted by StarOMorning_

Dear Elrond,

I'm lusting after this girl called Éowyn, but she has this bad habit of calling me a monster. I know that the Witch-King is after her, too, and that he got some great dating advice from some co-workers of yours so I was hoping you could help me as well.

Oh, and could you give me a recipe for some nice hair lotion so I could dazzle her next time I see her? Also, my name sucks, any suggestions for changing it?

Gríma Wormtongue

***

_Lord Elrond felt adverse to helping out Gríma, especially with dating advice, so Haldír once more stepped in._

Dear Gríma (what else can we call you? Snuggles? Fluffy? You know, the most sincere form of flattery is imitation. Maybe you should change your name to Éowyn)

As for dating her, just start by observing the cardinal rule of _personal space. _If you stop trying to stroke her hair in a very pedophilic way, I would imagine she'll warm up to you a lot quicker. Then, after you've gotten her to stop glaring at you like the horse poo on the bottom of her shoe, casually bump into her somewhere and use the best line ever invented by horny men:

"So, do you come here often?"

That should get her into your pants _immediately_. Good luck!

Haldír

P.S: I gave the Witch-King some _awesome _advice, too, so I'd watch out if I were you.

P.P.S: Wash your hair before you jump into the sac. No one likes grease on the pillow case.

* * *

**A/N: The massage-therapists were a huge hit! But, unfortunately, they need to be returned. Send them with the proper postage and in return reviewers get…hmm…professional Elf/Hobbit/Ranger/Rohirrim/Gondorion serenaders! Yay! You choose the song; they end up on your terrace with flowers wearing nothing but a trench coat and a smile.**

**And then you can do what you want with them. Enjoy.**


	22. Chapter 22

**This warning is a little belated, but I'd like to make a point of saying that this story is rated T for a reason and that if you're uncomfortable with any innuendo or sexual references (though, like I said, it's a little late for that) I wouldn't suggest continuing…XD**

**Is it mature? No. Is it still awesome? Hellz to the Yeah. **

**I'd also like to make an announcement that this is officially the first chapter I have written on my BRAND NEW SPANKING LAP TOP!!! CAN I GET A WHOOP WHOOP?!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: Whatzizname at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatAndBenevolentElvenking at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: I have a bone to pick with you...

Dear Whozit,

First of all, my apologies. Galion got into my Dorwinion again and decided to check the palace email - and all he was able to tell me about the spam messages he deleted was that one of them was apparently from your side of the Misty Mountains. However, since you so rarely say anything of any TRUE import, I feel secure in knowing that if it was really urgent, now that you know it got deleted as spam, you'd say it again. And again. I really do hate the echo effect you get in that ravine of yours...

But now, down to business.

First off, what in the name of Manwë's driver's-side airbags do you intend for me to do with your daughter NOW? Evidently you are unwilling to give her a respectable mount that doesn't leave her heels dragging in the dust with which to head home, and NOW she decides to take up opera singing with a vengeance. Wouldn't be half-bad at it if she could carry a tune; but, as the old song goes, "There's a Hole in the Bucket, dear Arwen, dear Arwen..." Half of my goblets are cracked and won't hold wine anymore, and I really hate having to haul out the gold ware for the Mary Sues who get thirsty to keep them from turning into her Greek Chorus.

I DEMAND your lame-brain sons - who spend more of their time in the Healing Rooms after trying their luck with the local spiders when they can barely hack their way out of matching paper bags - remove her from Legolas' closet at once and accompany her back in your direction. Or send her on to Galadriel – I really don't care which. FWIW, I understand Glads and Celeborn could use a third to help them when they stage the Ride of the Valkyries, and you KNOW what a really great chaperone Glads can be. The musically-inclined Galadhrim will love you for your thoughtfulness, I'm sure!

Finally, I have enough spiders in my realm, thank you. You did NOT have to invite another to come roost in my trees and scare all the legitimate nasties away. For your information, my pet spider Fluffy has lately taken to hiding under my bed - which makes it very difficult to adequately... erm... "entertain" my cuter Mary Sues, Viagra or no. So, I'm sorry to say, Shelob has GOT to go.

I have littered the path over the Mountains with bits of venison garbed in the colors of Imladris, and I am glad to report that she was last seen happily gobbling her way to a dark-haired Imladrim Elven diet. I suggest you house her in Glorfindel's closet, where she can guard his thong collection against Erestor's predations. Absolutely NOTHING worse than slashed thongs!! *shudder*

In closing, I tell ya what: don't do me anymore favors, and I won't do you any either. We get along so much better when we don't speak to each other, ya know?

Thranduil, All-Powerful King of the Greenwood (YeeHaw!)

P.S: you can send those two Haradrim sisters back - the three they left behind here have decided they need all five to make the act work properly. I'm sure Celie will be glad not to have to share you with them anymore. Not that there's much to share in the first place, right? *snort*

***

To: FattieWatchYourCalories at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: LitheAndSlender at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Are you breaking up with me?

Dear Thranduil,

I'm sorry that my reply has taken such a large amount of time. You see, while I was reading your letter I drifted off to sleep, and by the time I woke up Celebrían was ready for another round, and your pathetic complaints were forgotten.

By all means—send my children back to their grandparents. I'll make sure to tell "Glads" and Celeborn who sent them, mmkay? Just remember that Galadriel has powers beyond your pitiful imagination and is quite capable of removing those Mary-Sues from your realm. Or slipping something into your nighttime apple juice that might make it difficult for you to…satisfy said Sue's. Just something to think about.

Shelob arrived earlier this morning and immediately took a liking to Erestor, much to his chagrin. Erestor is terrified of spiders, if you remember. Glorfindel attempted to distract her by walking around in a thong (he merely succeeded in distracting the entire female population and most of the males) but unfortunately she couldn't be swayed. At the moment I think Erestor is busy trying to teach her Sindarin or the history of the First Age or something. I actually am feeling pity for this spider if she's cooped up in his office all day.

I have tried with all of my might to ignore your letters since, as you said, it's generally better if we don't speak; unfortunately, labradorite seems insistent and claims it is "very rude" to "leave you hanging." I will never understand the current teenage jargon. So, I suppose the ball is in your court. Metaphorically, but we won't get into that.

Best wishes!

Lord Elrond the Awesome

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I have a problem. You see, I'm just a normal human girl with a slight genetic mutation. I can't help it if this causes me to drain the life out of anyone I touch! I heard that recently someone invented this "cure" for mutants such as myself, and I told my boyfriend I was thinking about getting said cure. I thought he'd be overjoyed- shows you what I know. Ever since then, he's been hanging out with this skinny little kid who can walk through walls. And also, he's kinda giving me the cold shoulder. Do you think I should give him another chance? Or should I break up with him?

Sincerely,  
Rogue

***

Dear Rogue,

To be honest, I'm surprised your boyfriend has lasted this long. He may love you, but a man has needs and you being unable to touch him is not exactly what I call sexually stimulating.

I don't know…maybe you should just go to Australia and get cured and go see the bf when you're done. Chances are you'll meet someone a lot cooler!

Good luck,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kitiara Uth Matar_

Dear Elrond,

I've been hanging around the coastline for the last few thousand years, but that's really got kinda old and you just wouldn't believe where that sand manages to get. So I've decided to pay a visit to my favorite foster-son (you!). Will be there within the week, have my usual room ready.

Yours, Maglor son of Fëanor

P.S: Who's this labradorite? And why does she keep sending members of the First Race to people smothered in chocolate? Surely this is not proper Elven behavior?

P.P.S: I've heard rumors that I have a daughter somewhere in Middle Earth called Linwë. Have you heard anything?

***

Dear Maglor,

Er…I wish you had written in sooner…like 2,000 years sooner. I've rented your usual room out to someone for the long-term, and as much as I don't like her, I'm sure labradorite would _not _be pleased with moving.

And I make it a point to keep labradorite pleased. She is perfectly nasty when irritated and has the unfortunate potential and power to ruin everything I've created.

That, and somehow she has won over Haldír and he _definitely _has the power to ruin my life.

Anyway, sorry I haven't written more—but I suppose I'll see you soon!

Lord Elrond

P.S: I'll explain about labradorite when you get here, as it's not something I want her reading by accident.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

I am in need of some advice, though I am loath to admit it. You see, a vile little wench named Dorothy recently fell out of the sky, and dropped a house on my sister in the process. To add insult to injury, she then made off with my dearly departed sister's ruby slippers.

My sister's death doesn't bother me too much, as she was a religious zealot and an emotional leech, and not a very good sister besides. The theft of her shoes, on the other hand, I really can't forgive, so I was wondering if you knew of any way to track down thieving little girls?

Also, any suggestions on how one might go about removing magical glue put on the shoes by a certain good witch in order to prevent me from taking them off of Dorothy's feet would be greatly appreciated.

Please feed the flying monkey, and send a reply back with it.

Hoping you are well,  
The Wicked Witch of the West

***

Dear TWWOTW,

I do in fact know several ways to track down thieving little girls, but I have a better idea. Dorothy seems to be a vain little thing and you could carefully explain that her weird blue checkered dress clashes _terribly _with those gaudy red slippers.

Though she might come back with the fact that the red slippers clash with your green skin. So be prepared for that.

I don't have any ideas for the magical glue, but I'll talk to my sons as they have used it numerous times to attach various things to my forehead.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

Yavanna darling said we should never hurt the cute animals, so I turned to plants. But then, she made it clear in no uncertain terms that there was NO WAY in Middle-Hell that we would ever harm the plants. So I turned to rocks, but then I realized that poor rocks have feelings too.

I'M STARVING!

HELP!

Lord Aulë

P.S: I heard that you and some fellow mates were captured by a human. Ouch! Though, on the bright side of things...you are better off than orcs. I mean, this labradorite can't be as bad as Morgoth, eh?

***

Dear Aulë,

Well, you created the dwarves, didn't you? Ask them for help!

Lord Elrond

P.S: I beg to differ about labradorite, but I won't put anything in writing. We have indeed been captured but all things considered it's better than Morgoth. Or living with Thranduil.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Recently Sid has become so obsessed with fathering kids of his own that he actually thinks he can do it with me as his mate! Normally I could take care of this myself by eating him but junk food makes my stomach queasy. Is there anything else I can do to stop this loony tune sloth from carrying out his delusional plan?

Diego

***

Dear Diego,

I almost considered not replying to this letter since "Ice Age 2" and "Ice Age 3" were such awful movies, but labradorite claimed the dodo birds were cute and begged me to answer.

I'm actually going to refer you to Prince Legolas, as he has quite a bit of experience dealing with unwanted male attention.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Cocoalata_

Dear Elrond,

I need your help. I have spent nearly all of my life in a labyrinth and as you can probably imagine, it's agonizingly boring in here. I'm also suffering from a horrible headache and mental confusion since I've spent far too much time on trying to figure out how to get out of here.

It's not my fault my mother had a thing with a bull. It's not my fault that her husband was stupid enough to annoy a god, either. Yet still, I'm the one sitting here with nothing to do, forced to eat people because nobody believes me that I'm actually a vegetarian and they refuse to send me some nice, green grass. So maybe they have problems with growing population but hey, my labyrinth is NOT a garbage dump!

Please, you have to help me. If I stay here any longer, I'll certainly lose the small rest of my mind that's left and start banging my head against the walls in order to break them.

Yours sincerely,  
Minotaur

***

Dear Minotaur,

I'm terribly sorry about your predicament. I tried to convince Daedalus not to keep you in that labyrinth, but dammit he was insistent. If it makes you feel any better, his son, Icarus, fell shortly after.

Because I'm a kind soul, to help you out I'm going to send this really cool guy named Theseus down. I bet you two will hit it off right away.

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I'm not actually writing in to you, but I haven't the number of the person I am seeking and was hoping you could pass this letter on. The chick's name is Éowyn and I need her advice. You see, I want to enlist in China's army instead of my father, and I heard that this Éowyn girl managed to trick everyone that she really wasn't going to fight, and ended up being quite useful after she snuck in.

Unfortunately, the only resources I have are an annoying dragon, a flakey cricket and an old curmudgeon horse to help me. Any ideas?

Mulan

P.S: Also, I'm half in love with my sex-on-a-stick captain who thinks I'm a dude. Any advice you could offer regarding that would be appreciated.

***

Dear Mulan,

Okay, let's get down to business here. They didn't send for daughters when they asked for sons, and you're probably the saddest soldier they've ever met so I guess you should pack up and go home…you're through. How could he make a man out of you?

If you _really _want to succeed than you must be swift as the coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, with all of the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

I hope my words have helped you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dearest Elrond,

As I was walking in the gardens, thinking of our love, I was inspired by the nature around me to write some lovely haiku. I do hope you enjoy them.

_Delicate mountain_

_Floating over the fresh snow,_

_Sees the morning breeze._

_Lost, sweet butterfly_

_Playing against the cool mist,_

_Summer time has come._

_White leaves on the trees_

_Looking with the nighttime sky,_

_The daytime perfume._

My love for you is like the delicate mountain, or the lost butterfly, or even the white leaves. Please do not continue to deny our love.

Hugs and wet, sloppy kisses,

Mirror Image

***

_Elrond has deleted this message as spam, yet Haldír couldn't resist hopping on the computer._

Dear MI,

_Creepy She-Demon_

_Doesn't know how to write poems,_

_Sweet stupidity._

_Stalker-esque haiku_

_Will not sway studly Lord Elrond_

_So please stop trying._

_Nature is okay_

_If you like that romance shit,_

_Maybe you should leave._

Your poetry would mean a lot more if it actually made sense. I mean, it would mean all that _much_, but certainly more than it does now.

Haldír

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took such a long time! Real life got in the way and I've been out of town. Since I made you wait so long, reviewers get TWO Elves/Rangers/Gondorions/Rohirrim/Hobbits. Sound good? I don't have any specifics for these ones, so it's kind of a free-for-all.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for all the favorites and reviews—they really mean a lot. I've never had 500 reviews before and the very idea of it is astounding, let alone the feeling I got when I first saw the little number. You guys are beyond awesome. :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey there everyone! Before you continue reading chapter 23 of **_**Ask Elrond**_**, I would like to ask all of you a question. I'm interested in purchasing some sort of jewelry that has a labradorite stone in it, and I've looked online and haven't found what I'm looking for. Do you guys have any recommendations? It's a rather hard gem to find in normal places, and the usual shade of labradorite they have is the sort of yucky gray one, and I'd like either the purple or blue/green shade. Also, I can't spend oodles of money on this. I'd appreciate any info you have. Thanks :)**

**I've started writing the Epilogue (which I've decided is going to be chapter 30) so if you guys have any requests I'd be happy to hear them! Enjoy the next installment.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by sectimsempra_

Dear Elrond,

I took your advice and sampled some of those Sues. They tasted kind of like that sickeningly sweet cough syrup. The native spiders are terrified of me. I'm hurt. All I wanted to do was say hello and maybe _[the rest of this is censored for your own protection]_. Anyway, I found this appetizing food leading all the way to a home with tasty morsels. One of them has particularly taken my fancy, but he seems to be terrified of me and fear-flavored meat is not very good. It has a bit of a sour taste to it. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd have any tips on calming potential meals down so that the full flavor may be enjoyed.

Shelob

P.S. I do believe he is trying to teach me the language of my food. I'm not entirely sure what I'd do with it. Perhaps apologize to my meals before eating them?

***

Dear Shelob,

I'd like you to do me a personal favor and torment Erestor as much as possible. That silly cross-dresser gets cut way too much slack (Celebrían spoils him terribly). As for eating my kin, I'd suggest becoming a vegetarian, as I doubt very much anyone will warm up to you because you have eight legs, _way _too many eyes and are quite ferocious. Something about that doesn't spell warm and fuzzy feelings.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Bacchus said he was going to reward me with a gift where I could have all the Elves in thongs that I wanted - I don't even know what Elves or thongs are, but it didn't sound too bad at the time. But then the guy had a major piss-up - you know how those gods of merriment are - and so everything I touched would turn to gold. That doesn't sound too bad, until I found out that gold doesn't mean everything. When I asked him to change it he got pissed (furious, not drunk) and now everything I touch turns to crap. A little help is appreciated, as I am typing this on a quite literally crappy computer.

King Midas

***

Dear Midas,

Well, pissing off the god of wine and patron of the theatre probably wasn't the best idea. Those theatre aficionados can be quite unbearable at times (dramatic little crazies) and you know that he and Hera/Juno had a thing going on. You might want to rethink going to see the Elves in thongs…but I suppose the point is moot now that you have crap-hands. I don't have any remedy for that, surprisingly enough. But if you would please go visit a certain elf named Thranduil and touch his hair. Thank you!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Not-Even-A-King Elrond,

In the movies, when you took Isildur to Mount Doom and he refused to throw away the Ring, WHY in the Great Timeless Void did you not push him into the lava? WHY did you not save countless people countless years of suffering, misery, despair and death? Can you even grasp how many people were shouting, "JUST PUSH HIM IN, ELROND!!"?

Quite frankly, you are a doofus.

Best regards,  
Elros (aka My-Brother-Is-A-Doofus)

P.S: Ada, Naneth and I are most disappointed by your Un-Elven stupidity. Dammit, Thranduil told me you actually FAILED the Elven Ruler Test! Your family, the greatest legends of the First and Second Ages are ashamed to even know you!

P.P.S: Immortals suck!

***

My Dearest Twin Elros (please note the sarcasm),

I have never admitted this to anybody, but since you're my brother I feel I can confide in you. You see, while I was standing on that precipice, shouting at Isildur, I was caught up in how completely masculine and strong and _sexy _he looked…I couldn't bring myself to toss him off that mountain! I mean, more likely than not he was going to throw the ring in, I figured. It never occurred to me that he would be a dumbass about it.

In short, it's not my fault that mortals suck.

LORD Elrond

P.S: How do you think I feel, having a dead mortal for a brother, a nightlight for a father and a freaking bird for a mother? HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL ABOUT THAT?!

P.P.S: Elros, my dear, we are twins. Identical twins. Emphasis on the identical. Now, I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but I don't think much has changed as far as our anatomy goes. Do you _really _believe Thranduil? Really?

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: ThreeInchesAtBest at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: TwelveInchesMinimum at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Who you calling "Fattie", Lard-Butt?

Dear Merely-a-Master,

Elrond, Elrond, Elrond! Falling asleep while entertaining your wife in bed is bad enough, but actually reading MY letters while entertaining your wife in bed - and THEN falling to sleep to boot - is just plain SAD! No wonder it takes more than one "session" (probably more like three or four - right?) just  
to satisfy the poor lady once! Maybe I SHOULD reconsider your invitation to come to Imladris, if for no other reason than to sha… erm… *show* your wife what it means to be with a REAL King. One Night with the King sounds pretty good to me, actually; and maybe she can take something from the  
experience to help YOU out. Sounds like you need all the help you can get, poor thing…

One wonders how you managed to spawn those three from Udun at that rate. Never mind. Maybe I DON'T want to know!!

Speaking of Udun and its minions… Trust me, I made certain Glads knew who was shipping your orc-lings off to Lothlórien; but, unlike you, I'm not afraid of that Noldorin skank. Before he died, my father told me some tales about her antics from his travels before he settled down in Doriath that would  
make even YOUR eyebrows do things otherwise thought physically impossible. And the last time the Galadhrim thought to try to annex my Greenwood, I whispered what I knew into her ear and let her know that if she wanted me to keep those stories from Celeborn's ears, she'd better behave herself.

So I have no fears for my cute fangirls' continued residency or of foreign substances in my apple cider. I'll give you an 'A' for effort, though – keep working at it and you'll find a threat that will actually make me blink. I KNOW you can do it! I have confidence in you. (And if you believe THAT one, I have a spider web bridge to sell you!)

Of course the ball is in my court. Actually I have two balls, according to the fangirls who keep very close tabs on such things - neither of which need those little blue pills of yours anymore since Arwen's crooning at the top of her lungs "thinned the herd" of Sues for me. This, naturally, puts the score at two for me, zippo for you. No surprises there. (Reading MY letters while making love to your wife - for shame! Although, to be honest, I never thought you cared that much. I'm touched. Not THERE, but I'm touched.)

Incidentally, I sympathize with your situation in continuing our correspondence. That labradorite is a tough cookie. I'm glad she's roosting and messing up your hair, not mine - although I'd really appreciate it if she'd stop trying to dump chocolate sauce all over my nice clean tunics and ship me off to some squeeing reviewer. If I must be shipped off at all, I'll visit that Aeärwen - at least SHE knows how to treat me well.

(See? My eyebrows can do that too!)

Thranduil, Great and Magnificent KING of the Greenwood (Still a KING while you're only a measly Master. Yee-haw!

***

To: ClearlyCompensating at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME

From: SecureInMyMasculinity at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: You know, your wife rolled over this morning and said the damndest thing…

Dear So-And-So,

Did you know that when all you do is refer to your size and use innuendos, it is clear to everyone that you aren't getting some? I mean, if you were _really _getting laid then you wouldn't need to talk about it so much. So, incidentally, I am well aware of the fact that all of your Mary-Sues have grown tired of your pompous ranting and raving and have abandoned you for your much prettier, more masculine son and advisors. Clearly the fact that you don't need Viagra is only because you can't convince anyone to sleep with you, except maybe one of your Chihuahuas. Let's let bygones be bygones, dear King, for clearly there is only one more thing for a healer such as me to ask you: How do you feel about that?

labradorite and I have come to some sort of understanding, which pretty much entails that she gets to think she's making the decisions when really I have complete control over her. It's a win-win situation. Though maybe I should explain what that means, as I doubt very much that you have ever won anything. I mean, you're only king because your father kicked the bucket. It's not like you did anything to earn your title. I _built _my haven with my own two hands, sir. Only my modesty and good looks prevented me from accepting the title "king."

Oh, and which one of us has an Elven ring of power? Hmm? Which one of us? WHICH ONE?!

Lord Elrond

P.S: You've forgotten that I'm married to Galadriel's daughter and that Glads and Celeborn have a mind connection. Just putting that out there.

P.P.S: You will never have the scary eyebrows that I do. Never. 'A' for effort, 'E' for fail.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Evil Demon Warrior Bunny_

Dear Lord Elrond,

The last time we met was when I begged and pleaded for you to allow me to go on a quest--a bad move on my part, I now see--and you told me either that I was too young or insinuated that I was a moron, depending on who you ask. It's to this intent that I'm writing to you today. You see, every time I do anything I feel that I'm either being looked down upon or treated as some sort of comic relief, and it's really starting to hurt my feelings. Do you have any advice on how to get treated more like a valuable member of the Fellowship?

Master Peregrin Took

P.S: Also the slash fics with me and Merry are getting a bit much. Help, please?

***

Dear Pippin,

Well, you should talk to Gimli, as he is also only used in the movies as comic relief for the entire trilogy. Anyways, as for being treated as a valuable member of the fellowship, first you have to _be _one. I mean, let's be honest here. You, Merry and Sam are all just decoy hobbits so that if they find you they aren't sure which one of you has the ring. See? Decoys. But, Master Pippin, your value in the fellowship _is _comic relief. That and the fact that Boromir has to redeem himself _somehow _and saving your life is the only way.

So, actually, just keep doing what you're doing. I have a feeling eventually you're going to end up helping the king in Gondor and whatnot.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Actually, I do have sympathy for the slash fics. I've quickly found that there is no way to stop them, so it's better if you just avoid the internet for the time being.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Can I come and live with you? This whole nonsense with my Father and the under aged Mary Sues is creeping me out since he always yells "Who's your Daddy?!" every time he is "entertaining" one of them. The acoustics in my father's halls is such that someone farting at one end can clearly be heard by everyone else no matter where they are at. I tried going outside in order to get away from it but the female trees kept pestering with their requests for me to get them in with my father so they could have some of that action too!

As you can well imagine this creeped me out further. Personally, I don't think it's physically possible for this to happen between an elf and tree but then again maybe that is where the term hard wood came from...

Anyway please say yes to my request! I promise I will do whatever you want while I'm there!

Legolas the Desperate Prince of Mirkwood

***

Dear Legolas,

As it were, I no longer have room for guests at the Last Homely House. However, labradorite has graciously offered _her _room for you to share. I would highly advise against this, however I will let you make your own decisions. I fully support your want to escape from your deranged father, and will do everything in my considerable power to save you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I was recently flying around town, just enjoying the sites and whatnot, when a very small, strange looking creature wearing a loin cloth waved some kryptonite at me. Naturally I fell from the sky, and when I landed this creature (who later revealed himself as some nut job named "Gollum") bound and gagged me and dragged me off to some random cave. I'm not particularly worried; I'm sure I can overtake this bony little basket case, but I thought I should warn you as he was muttering something about "Lord Elrond" and "taking his ring of power" or some nonsense.

Hope this reaches you in time,

Superman

***

Dear Superman,

Thanks for the heads up. In return for your kind warning, I'd like to offer one of my own: Lois Lane is a cheating whore who I recently saw with someone who looked abnormally like Batman, so I'd watch out if I were you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

Your sons and the Dúnedain just came down to the Fords of Isen to meet up with us Riders of Rohan. Well, the problem is Éowyn. She keeps humming 'It's Raining Men' under her breath and giggling whenever I say something about it. Apparently all the Rohirrim Éowyn grew up with look like, how Gimli so eloquently put it, 'as boys' compared to these guys, and she's definitely noticed. I'm annoyed with this song, with how my own looks measure up (I'm very glad the ladies at Edoras haven't seen this group!), and with everything in general these days. Just please load me down with advice and/or reassurances. Please.

Éomer

***

Dear Éomer,

I understand that the Dúnedain are some sexy bitches, but they ain't got nothing on you! C'mon, dude! Besides, it's not like you want to impress your sister that much anyway. Chances are that none of those ladies in Edoras are ever going to know about this, and you can return home and…er…comfort yourself, mmkay? Besides, I'm thinking pretty soon you'll be meeting a nice young lady from Dol Amroth and will more likely than not be "getting it on."

Good luck!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Okay, for the record, I am completely and utterly content with my looks. In fact, I think they're excellent. So excellent that I can't even believe it sometimes. I mean, I can stare at my reflection in a mirror for hours and never grow tired of how wonderful my face is. But, as I'm sure you know, we're not getting any younger and I'm thinking it might be time for me to invest in some preliminary Botox. I don't have any wrinkles, of course. But it can't hurt to be cautious.

So, what do you think?

Haldír of Lothlórien

***

Dear Haldír,

Err…did you forget that we're elves?

No, but really. Did you?

Because elves don't get wrinkles. Elves don't even get facial hair, except Círdan who I strongly believe was always a little less-Elven then the rest of us.

So, to answer your question, no. I don't think you should get Botox.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: I just got really, really sad thinking about writing the Epilogue… D:**

**Anyway. Reviewers get the character of their choice with scented soaps and body washes for a nice, hot shower. Sound good?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Okay, guys. My new Dell (lovingly named Legolas the Laptop. I really am as creepy as I look) formats my documents in a really strange way, so I'm sorry about how dumb this chapter might be laid out. Please bear with me until I figure out a better way to set it up. Thanks!**

**On a side note, I've just discovered "A Very Potter Musical" that was a Harry Potter musical that the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) students wrote and acted in earlier this year. It's probably the single funniest thing I've ever seen, and it's on youtube. You should all seriously consider investing some time into watching it, because it will complete your life.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

To: HighAndMightyDodo at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: FinePieceO'Jewellery at PotterMustDie . org  
Subject: Hell Hath No Fury... etc, etc.

Dear Elrond

Help me! I have fallen into the hands of Ginny Weasley (yes, that's WEASLEY, not POTTER, as she so kindly reminds everyone these days).

I didn't think there was anyone on this Earth or any other who could resist my influence, but at they say, Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned. And with all her fury and scorn and thoughts of murdering her ex-husband, I just can't get a hold on her mind.

So, I repeat: Help me! Who knows what she is going to try to use me for. I was made for the destruction of entire armies, not the torture of a single wizard with commitment issues. My talents are being wasted!

Worriedly  
One Ring to Rule Them All

P.S: Word on the street is YOU were the one who originally mentioned me to her. So I think you owe me at least a couple of Elven warriors to come and rescue me.

P.S.S: Isn't email great?

***

To: BlingBling at PotterMustDie . org

From: GreatAndPowerfulLordofImladris at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: Did Thranduil, that slut, give you my e-mail?

Dear OneRing,

And here I thought you still had control over Edward Cullen! Interesting…so now his behavior can't be explained…I should probably warn Arwen…

Anyway. Just because you can't seem to control the ginger isn't my problem. Not to mention the fact that since _you're _the one who took control of Edward Cullen in the first place and caused him to hook up with Harry Potter and therefore leaving Harry no choice but to follow, this entire situation is your fault. In fact, I think poor Ginny WEASLEY deserves some redemption, and you should use your considerable (note the sarcasm) powers to help her out.

All the best,

Lord Elrond

P.S: Every time I send any sort of warriors (or suicidal hobbits) to rescue you, you end up possessing some random fictional character and evading us, so why do you keep asking for aid?

P.P.S: E-mail was great until Thranduil showed his fat, ugly face on the internet.

* * *

_Idea submitted by sectimsempra_

Dear Elrond,

I have a problem. See, I really like this girl, I've known her since she was 12. No, I didn't lust after then; get your mind out of the gutter. Anyway, she is the adopted daughter of the Dwarven king of Mithril Hall and is about to marry the adopted son of the same dwarf. I really like her, but she's a human and is marrying a barbarian (literally), and I'm an elf so our time would be limited. What should I do?

Drizzt Do'Urden

P.S: I hear you have a giant spider problem. I would be more than happy to take care of it.

***

Dear Drizzt (what a dumb name. Couldn't you have come up with anything better?)

Let me give you some advice from the father of an elf who is marrying a mortal: don't. Just don't. Don't do it. Really. I'm not kidding. This isn't a drill. Don't do it.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Ada,

Well, I got what I wanted. Rule of Gondor, Estel, and mortality. Only problem is that I finally figured out that it's permanent, and Estel's going grey. I think I screwed up on this one. Can I come back home and see if anything happens? Like renewed energy, or tauter skin?

Arwen

***

Dear Arwen,

Did you know I can say "I told you so" in fifty-five different languages? You kids today think you know _everything_.

You're stuck with him now, darling. Sorry. But guess what! I lied when I said you had turned mortal. Really I was just trying to get you to not marry the stupid human, but to no avail. So when he kicks it you can come home and marry a nice prince or something. I hear Legolas is available and he's actually staying in your room right now! It must be fate.

Your Ada

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

I have been ordered by the King and Queen to write a very sad and tragic biography about their father/foster father. To begin with, they have kindly supplied me with certain pieces of useful information:

1) You never saw your father much because he had a yacht.  
2) Your mother didn't let you have a pet squirrel even though your brother had three.  
3) When you were little, Elros broke your model of Minas Tirith after you had spent 8 years working on it.  
4) For a long time, your head didn't even come up to the top of the table. This caused an overall very depressed childhood, not to mention that:  
5) All the other boys had long, shiny hair and you had some greasy mess that you needed medicated shampoo for.

Furthermore, I have found a book in the library titled "Elrond Is A Doofus", jointly written by none other than Elros Tar-Minyatur (That Great and Glorious King of Númenor!) and Thranduil (also a King! Oh my, the excellent credentials of the authors!) explaining that as the title suggests, you are indeed a doofus. Though a biographer is supposed to be impartial, I can't help but feel sorry for you by this point. If I were a doofus, I would be pretty sad too. Speaking of which, the King has suggested as a possible title for the book, "Lord Doofus". Do you approve?

In order to make your biography as sad and appealing to the overly-emotional public as possible so that it will top the bestsellers chart within a few hours of its release, (We've already done extensive marketing and promotion. You won't believe how excited everyone is, awaiting the release of your first official biography!) I ask if you have any more sorrows or tragedies about your personal life to contribute.

Should you wish to contact me on a moment's notice, I've put my business card in the envelope as well.

Sincerely,  
Findegil, Scribe of Gondor, Your Biographer

***

Dear Findegil,

Finally! Someone who understands what a wretched childhood I had having to be related to that dumb Elros! I'm going to send you my partially written autobiography (ignore the penname, please, because I figured that no one would read anything with my name on it) that carefully details all of the struggles I faced (including not only being deprived of pet squirrels, but of pet dragons as well) and hopefully you can get some good information out of there.

I've read the book you're talking about and I can tell you that almost everything in there is completely false, especially the bit about my measurements. I want this all remedied in my biography. I've given you a couple of titles to choose from that we'll discuss when we meet.

Lord Elrond: Why He Doesn't Need "King" As a Title

Elrond: How He Can Be a Half-Elf and Still Be Better Than You

The Trials and Tribulations of Being Related To a Mortal: The "Better Twin" Story

How and Why Lord Elrond is Better Than King Thranduil

Being Awesome: A Lord Elrond Story

Any of those are fine with me, and there can be slight variations. Sound good? Good.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Cocoalata_

Dear Elrond,

Help! I'm all out of acorns! Do you know where I can find more?

Scrat the Sabber-Toothed Squirrel

***

Dear Scrat,

You're so creepy looking. Maybe the acorns are running away from you. But, I suppose if you squint a little bit you're kind of cute, so I'll take pity on you. I've sent some acorns in this envelope, but I should warn you that they're special disappearing acorns, so watch out.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Pimpernel Princess_

Master Elrond,

The men in my life are primeval brutes. One, the strongest and most arrogant man in the village, keeps pursuing me no matter how firmly I tell him that it will never work out. He has even threatened to send my slightly eccentric father to an asylum in order to coerce me into marrying him.

The other man is a beast. Literally. He keeps me shut up in his enchanted castle, roars at me if I don't agree with him, and keeps muttering about some curse and a rose. Fortunately, he keeps some very entertaining servants around the place. An enchanted tea pot, a clock and the like.

I just want to find true love, and above all someone who UNDERSTANDS me. What can I do? And what gives meant the right to act like mindless monsters, anyway? And what is the point of the Disney Princess merchandising? What is it teaching little girls--that wearing huge, sparkly dresses, that reveal too much chest is the only thing that matters?

Thank you for your time, it felt very good to rant.  
Belle

***

Dear Belle,

I actually was going to write to you. When did Princess Aurora become such a popular selling point? She's so _dull_! She doesn't actually _do _anything! She just pricks her finger and falls asleep! Yet she is incredibly popular. I don't understand.

Anyway, I think you would fit in really well in Imladris and my son Elladan is absolutely _itching _to meet you, so you should consider Being Our Guest. There is definitely something wrong with that beast and that tool of a suitor you have, and I think you'll enjoy an Elven husband much more.

Hope to see you soon!

Lord Elrond

P.S: I don't want to dissuade you from coming, but labradorite is absolutely desperate to be your friend, so consider this fair warning.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lady Ambreanna_

Dear Elrond,

I was reorganizing the library when I came across a book that is only half written. It is titled, "The Twin Lords, The Elven Prince, And the Man Who Would Be King". It is sub-titled, "Why Elrond Has So Many Headaches and So Few Clean Bandages". Would you like me to send it over so you can finish writing it?

Erestor

***

Dear Erestor,

Actually, if you could just forward that to one Mister Findegil in Gondor, I'd be ever so.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Pocahontas

***

Dear Pocahontas,

I do in fact know how tall a sycamore will grow and I _have _heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon, so I'm set. Thanks, though.

Lord Elrond

* * *

My Love,

I've left Imladris to prove my love to you, and have ventured into a dark forest filled with scary spiders. I happened to meet a very handsome (though not nearly as dashing as you, my dear) blond elf who says he knows you! King Thranduil is his name, and he said that he's going to help us get married in secret. Isn't that just wonderful?!

See you in Mirkwood!

Mirror Image

***

_Instead of forming a reply, Elrond merely stared at the computer screen in horror, his mouth hanging open while Haldír cackled merrily in the background. Please stand by._

Dear Mirror Image,

Since you seem to be denser than a bundt cake, I'm going to be very plain and simple with you.

Eff. Off.

Goodbye. Sayanara. Adios. Au revoir. Zai Jian. Shalom. Aloha. Ming longz oc. Usale Kahle. Giga-waabamin. Yawo. Ja ne. Salam. Ciao. Peace out, home skillet. Bugger off. See ya. Auf Wiedersehen.

PISS OFF, NUTCASE. GO STALK DR. PHIL.

Haldír

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I feel a little strange writing to you since you're a character that only existed in my imagination until I created you and your entire life from my boundless ingenuity, but I felt this was my best option. You see, this very gruff looking man named Peter Jackson discovered some way to raise me from the grave because he wanted my permission to turn my life's work into a film of epic proportions.

Now, of course I said no, but then he promised me that if I agreed I would be allowed to play the character of Glorfindel in the movies! Well, who wouldn't want to play that sexy beast? If nothing else, I would get some free black thongs out of the deal. So I agreed. PJ promised he would call and let me know when I should hop over to New Zealand for a shooting, and the bastard never called! Meanwhile I get a copy of the script and find out that Lord Glorfindel isn't even IN the bloody films! What is this blasphemy? Not to mention the actual movies that might as well be called "Close-Ups of Orlando Bloom and Elijah Wood's Freakishly Blue Eyes." Seriously.

Since apparently you have more power than I do (though I don't know how this is possible, considering you're a fictional character with a crazy fangirl as a keeper and I'm one of the best writers who ever lived) I was hoping you could use some of your influence to either punish PJ or get me some publicity. Especially now that I'm alive again.

Thanks,

J.R.R. Tolkien

P.S: Can I stay with you?

***

Dear Professor Tolkien,

I…er…how exactly did PJ bring you back to life? I mean, was it a _Frankenstein_ kind of thing or a _Pet __Sematary…_or maybe a"Monkey's Paw" type of situation? Either way, I don't suggest performing that on anyone else; I'm sure you're quite disgusting in your current dead-for-over-30-years state.

I've seen those movies, and actually in the four scenes that _weren't _Orlando Bloom's face I thought they did an okay job! But that's neither here nor there. Trust me when I say that the actual Lord Glorfindel was perfectly indignant, not to mention Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir, Halbarad, Rúmil, Orophin, Thranduil, Glóin, Círdan, and countless others. I'm actually okay with the fact that Thranduil wasn't portrayed, but that's not what we're talking about right now.

Please rest assured that the true _Lord of the Rings _fans know what really went down in Middle Earth during the Third Age, and the ones who haven't read the books are scary fangirls and Mary-Sues who wouldn't know good literature if it dressed up like an elf and pranced about.

Anyways, I'm going to stay clear out of this argument with Peter Jackson and leave the real opinions up to the public. I'm sorry to not have been more help, but do you honestly think that if I had any real power I would have let Haldír and the other elves of Lothlórien frolic around to Helm's Deep?

Lord…er…is it rude to call myself "Lord Elrond" since you're the one who created me?

Whatever.

Lord Elrond

P.S: You can stay with me, but I would advise heavily against it. Heavily. Also known as: I am currently living with a creepy-stalker author named labradorite who has done absolutely horrid things to your characters (don't even get me started!) and were you to actually appear in Imladris…

Ugh. It hurts to even think about it. For both of our sakes, please don't.

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Please don't believe anything one Mister J.R.R. Tolkien says. I'm completely innocent; director's prerogative and all that. I never promised him anything. Thanks.

Peter Jackson

***

Dear PJ,

Whatever tiff you're having with Professor Tolkien isn't any of my business, but I'd like to say that I think you're a fool for thinking you could have a measly human imitate my scary eyebrows.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: I'm having a rather strange case of writer's block *frowns*. Maybe reviews filled with funny letters and loving words would help…**

**Reviewers get an action figure of their favorite character that can sit on their shoulder and say nice and adoring things to them alllllll day long! D'aww.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Can I just say…wow. You guys are amazing. The amount of letters (GOOD letters!!!) for this chapter was absolutely astounding, and I seriously don't think I could have put up this chapter without you. If that happened for every installment this story would never end. Thank you all **_**so much **_**for the awesome feedback and inspiration!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by tchb_

Dear Elrond,

How in the world did my harmless, lovely nursery rhymes turn into those masochistic, terrifying things? For God's sake, I'm not Walt Disney! MY rhymes are meant to put good little children to sleep, not scare them out of their wits! Seriously. Humpty Dumpty died; Jack broke his skull; the King's pie had freaking black birds in it. "Ring Around the Rosey" is about the plague. I mean, for crying out loud "Rock a-bye Baby" is about a child being _killed. _

What is this blasphemy? And do you have a solution for me?

Mother Goose

***

Dear Mother Goose,

Well, to be honest I don't think anyone except the adult singing these rhymes will notice what these rhymes are about…I mean, c'mon! Walt Disney had his fun, so did Dr. Seuss. I suggest you just warm up to the idea of subtle political statements being hidden in your rhymes and have fun pulling the wool over everyone's eyes.

But then again, if your letter is suggesting that _you're _not the one who wrote these, I might know who did…do you happen to know anything about the One Ring?

Let me know.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

To: GreatLordElrond at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: TheWomanScorned at PotterMustDie . org  
Subject: My Fury, the likes of which Hell Hath None

Dear Elrond,

I want to thank you for sending me after Edward Cullen. Had I not inevitably tracked him down, I never would have gotten my hands on the Ring of Power, nor realized my destiny of wielding said ring to eviscerate that callous ex-husband of mine.

There's just one problem: The damn thing won't work. My father always said to never trust something that can think if you don't know where it keeps its brain. Or some crap like that. The brain isn't the problem, anyway. The problem is the conscience it suddenly seems to have developed.

As a Ring Bearer yourself, I wondered if you might share the secrets of gaining full control over one. I've tried a couple of simple spells, but none of them have worked. And until I have full access to the One Ring's powers, I will be unable to exact bloody vengeance on Harry freaking Potter.

Any help you could give would be greatly appreciated.

(Signed hopefully)  
Ginny Weasley  
Ring Bearer  
A Woman Scorned

***

To: TheWomanScorned at PotterMustDie . org

From: GreatLordElrond at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME

Subject: Finally, SOMEONE get's my e-mail right.

Dear Ginny,

Well, Vilya never tried to _apologize _for anything, so I'm not entirely sure how much help I'm going to be for you…but none-the-less I heard from Frodo that the ring happens to be partial to chocolate covered cherries (I haven't any idea how it ingests these, but I think it's better not to ask questions) so maybe you could bribe him?

It's worth a shot, I suppose. Just don't tell Mister Potter who told you. Just make sure not to leave the Ring lying around anywhere, as it's bound to try and seduce someone else into taking it away.

Good luck!

(Signed awesomely)

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_

Dear Elrond,

We have a serious problem. A VERY serious problem. It would figure that our author would be a woman if our most common form of transport is astride a bloody broomstick. Even our most popular sport is played on broomstick! That's just cruel! Does she have something against the opposite gender? It is a  
wonder that our magical world has even been able to procreate! Even if you are an elf, we would think that you'd sympathize with our plight being that you are of the same gender. Can you offer any advice in protecting such sensitive anatomy?

Any help is MUCH appreciated,

Sincerely,  
All the male characters of the Harry Potter world

***

Dear ATMCOTHPW (as you're more casually known)

You know, I never thought about that! Maybe it's to keep you randy little teenagers from jumping everyone you meet, but I could be wrong. You would think there would be a spell or something you could cast. If there truly isn't, I suggest going about inventing a new broomstick that resembles a flying bean bag chair or something.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by NiRi_

Dear Elrond,

I found this clunky gold ring lying around near some place with 'Weasley' on the mail box. It whispered that it knows you. Whispering pieces of jewelry are kind of creepy, so I heated it in the fires of Mt. Doom (which shut it up) and enlarged it. Legolas now uses it as a ... well, I'm not sure I should say where he wears it but it really compliments that Prince Albert he got! It has greatly improved Legolas's and my love life as the princeling can now last long into the night.

Thanks again for suggesting the marriage thing. We couldn't be happier!

Gimli the dwarf

***

Dear Gimli,

I told that blasted ginger not to leave that ring lying around.

Anyway, that was _way _too much information about your love life. I think my eyeballs are sizzling. Please don't tell Thranduil any of this.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Ilovepi_

Dear Elrond,

I have this problem. I'm in love with this really amazing guy--smart, handsome, nice blue eyes, the works--and he loves me too, that's the problem. See, he's a werewolf, and he thinks that his staying with me would hurt me. It kind of sounds like a silly excuse, because for some reason I constantly catch him staring at his old friend Sirius Black. Do you have any ideas of why?

Anyways, we got married, I got pregnant...and he left me. Ginny Weasley, whose husband (er...ex-husband) also has commitment issues suggested I write to you. She also said to let you know that she seems to have misplaced a ring you were talking to her about…

Sincerely,  
Tonks, Magnificent Metamorphagus and Amazing Auror

P.S: I almost forgot to mention--there's a war going on here. I hear you have experience with dark lords. Can you help with this one?

***

Dear Tonks,

Listen, we all know that Remus and Sirius are a match made in heaven. By getting pregnant I suppose you were more in the way than anything else. You can transfigure yourself at will, can't you? Try looking like that Sirius bloke and maybe your husband will come back!

And I'm in the process of writing a very strong-worded letter to Ms. Weasley. Note that I am sending her a stern glare through the paper.

Lord Elrond

P.S: If I knew how to help you with your war, I wouldn't have to deal with Thranduil every bloody day. I can't help you.

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheOneAndOnlyGlitter_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Well, grandfather actually. That's right, I'm your grandson from the future, son of Arwen and Aragorn. I was wondering if you could do me a bit of a favor. Since my mother was mortal when I was born, I am mortal, and I was wondering if you could maybe talk to her about not giving up her immortality so quickly. Maybe she can give it up after I'm born. The thing is I would really like to be an elf, well a half-elf technically. That way, once I inherit my father's throne I won't have to give it up since I would be immortal, and I think I would look good with pointy ears.

Please talk to my mother about this, after all I will be your favorite grandson, even though we never actually meet; consider this a way to make up for that.

I owe you, Grand-Ada,  
Eldarion

***

Dear Eldarion,

Er…hello! I'm sorry that I'm never going to meet you, but I'm sure you understand. My wife is overseas, you see, and, well, it's been quite a long time since she's been around…whatever. You'll understand when you're older.

Trust me; I've tried convincing Arwen to stay immortal. I don't understand why she can't just stay immortal, live with your father until he dies and then sail away with her brothers. It is baffling. But the wench is insistent so what can you do? I'll show her your letter (she's certainly going to be surprised. I didn't know you could write from the future) and maybe she'll change her mind.

Have a good life!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by dinopoodle_

Dear Elrond,

I need some advice; you see I love my wife dearly, but she is always in someone else's mind. Also, when she gets really bored she will not let me have a moment's peace. Any ideas how I can get a break from her wondering into my mind? (I wrote this while she was asleep.) I need a vacation, or she needs a swift kick to the noggin.

Sincerely,  
Lord Celeborn,  
a.k.a your father-in-law

***

Dear Celeborn,

I understand that you've probably had to deal with this your entire marriage, but at least you're bonded to her. Your impure thoughts are fine; in fact, they're probably how my wife was even born. How do you think _I _feel? I'm the elf sleeping with her daughter! That's just disturbing! Somehow I can't seem to think of anything else when I'm around Galadriel and I've come to dread our visits. Talk about awkward city.

I can't help you. She has a ring of power, not to mention the fact that you're completely whipped anyways. Sorry, father-in-law.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: DancesWithBandaids at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: HisRoyalHighness at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Now you've gone and done it!

Dear... no, you're not a dear anything right now!,

First off, don't go blaming the fact the One Ring got your email address on me. _You're_ the one who hasn't the sense Eru gave a Nazgúl and put your various and blatantly exaggerated email addresses in an advice column. Geez! Use your brain for something besides holding your ears apart once in a while,  
willya?

Oh. Wait. You haven't much of that either, do you? Never mind...

Secondly, thanks to you, I have this disembodied (I assume) something-or-other roaming about in the darker parts of my realm singing the glories of "Elrond the Wonderful" to the spiders! The noise is horrific, I'm told; and frankly I don't appreciate the general exodus of spiders to the "nicer" parts of Mirkwood (IOW, the vicinity of MY Halls.) Fluffy is frantic with all the competition and hanging her webs in all the wrong places here in the palace. I demand you take charge of the creature known as "Mirror Image" immediately.

If she's so anxious to marry, give her to Haldír. I understand those two have some sort of perverse attraction to each other - and if, as she claims, the two of YOU have a "thing" going on, it at least gets her closer to you and gives her something to do while you spend time with Celebrían. Actually, now  
that I think about it, that works out well all around: Celie can supplement you with Glorfy, Mirror Image can supplement you with Haldír, and my spiders can go back to making Mirkwood the memorable place it is.

But finally, I received word via Desperate Squirrel Post that you are holding MY son, Legolas, captive in Arwen's apartment - AND took away his cell phone. You REALLY do NOT want to let that boy loose in a girl's bedroom, Elrond. Trust me on this one, even if you trust me on nothing else. The things he does  
with jewelry... *shudder* Besides, you already have two other young males who apparently see you as their sire.

Legolas may be a nitwit and an airhead, but he's MY nitwit and airhead – and I have to date managed to keep him away from ladies' wardrobes and jewelry boxes. Please give him his cell phone back, refill his pouch of bread crumbs and send him on his way before you discover something worse than black thongs and Erestor's occasional use of makeup. Or does the name RuPaul mean nothing to you?

Thranduil - King of the Greenwood (a Master is still not a King, no matter what you say - YeeHaw!)

***

To: DancesWithSpiders at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: VilyaLover at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Listen up, dumbass

Thranduil,

You know what? I'm going to be nice to you in this letter. I know Mirror Image is annoying on the surface, but I really think that if you took the time to get to know her you two would get along swimmingly. Your wife has been gone a long time, old chap. Maybe it's time to give the Sues a break? From what I understand this MI creature has plenty of experience in that department (that's what Haldír tells me, anyway, but I really don't want to find out why). I am very graciously offering her to you. I _would _give her to Haldír except for some reason labradorite freaked out when I suggested it, so…No need to thank me.

Legolas wanted to stay here, Thranduil. Don't have kittens over it. He has his cell phone; he's just lying to you like he always does. Do you honestly think I want to have him in my home? And Arwen took all of her feminine fripperies with her so we only have to worry about Erestor and Glorfindel's influence. They haven't managed to corrupt my sons yet, so I think it's safe.

Between the two of you, you are the single strangest family I have ever seen in my entire long life. I really don't understand it.

Lord Elrond (I don't need to justify myself with a fancy title, buster)

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Can we fix it?

Bob the Builder

***

Dear Bob,

Yes, we can.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I just wanted to take a moment of your time to deliver a heartfelt apology for my behavior at Mt. Doom. I didn't mean to allow Sauron's spirit to endure, thereby causing the darkening of Greenwood and indirectly resulting in thousands of deaths! That Ring was just so... shiny! And golden! And it had such a nice singing voice! (That should have tipped me off... jewelry isn't supposed to sing.)

Anyways, please allow me to apologize to you and all the other inhabitants of Arda. Except Galadriel and Celeborn- I never liked them much.

Apologetically,  
Isildur

***

Dear Isildur, you little shit,

You're forgiven, but only because we've come up with a solution to your stupidity. Do you have any idea how much shit I've gotten over the ages because of you? Seriously, man. The least you could do is take me out to lunch or something.

I can assure you that the ring has seen many different hands (and other body parts, unfortunately) as of late and will soon be destroyed. Hopefully.

But you can bet your boots I'm going to hunt you down in the afterlife. Beware.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Cocoalata_

Dear Elrond,

I beg to differ: I am not measly! And my eyebrows are just perfect, thank you.

Agent Smith was a lot nicer than you, which truly is something you should think about, considering he was evil, plus, he actually didn't even exist, and you call yourself 'good' and your house 'homely'.

With hurt pride,  
Hugo Weaving

***

Dear Hugo,

Your eyebrows were beautiful; don't let your pitiful human pride be wounded. But, as we have never met, I understand that you are unable to fully comprehend how scary my eyebrows really are.

Justifiably,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by HeadbangGirl_

Hello, Lord Elrond,

Okay. So, I'm stuck on this island, and there's this nymph Calypso, and she won't let me go! Everyone told me it's the Will of the Gods that I return home soon, but I can't wait (I mean, a man has needs) much longer here. And I hear-tell that a bunch of random men are pimping out my wife back home, and that sucks majorly.

Can you help me? I'm running out of ideas – I know elves don't appear in Greek Mythology but I thought that maybe I would ask anyway…

Odysseus

P.S: Next time we meet, I'll introduce myself properly, but I don't have time right now. That nymph is coming and—

***

Dear Odysseus,

Well, pumpkin, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that you're going to take roughly twenty years to get home. And it's going to suck majorly the entire time. BUT, the good news is that I've heard from my good friend Zeus that he's sent some bloke named Hermes to help you out, so there you go.

Best of luck to you!

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I need you to pass this on to labradorite, please. Thanks.

Er…I have a problem. You see, I know that you know that Mirror Image is running around the caves of Mirkwood singing about you and stuff, but, well…she found me.

I didn't mean to get caught! I swear! But she quickly figured out who I was (I am much more famous than I thought I was!) and now…well…

Please help me. Please. I am begging you. I take back every mean thing I've ever said and every threat I've ever made. I know you have powers to stop this. Please.

Haldír

***

Dear Haldír,

You are such a dumbass. I'm on my way over. Try fending her off with giant posters of Elrond until I get there. You so owe me for this. We're talking chocolate massages and a _lot _of serenading in the near future.

labradorite

* * *

**A/N: I wish I had something more inspirational to say than "thank you a thousand times to each and every person who reviewed." But…THANKYOUATHOUSANDTIMESTOEACHANDEVERYPERSONWHOREVIEWED!!**

**On a side-note, do any of you by chance draw? Because I'm in desperate need of a new avatar and I'd adore an Ask Elrond themed one. Let me know and I'll give you my e-mail :)**

**Reviewers get whoever the hell they want from whatever story they want. I've stolen most of the people you seen in these letters, so it's free game *grin* ****Thanks for reading! Hope to hear from you ;D**


	26. Chapter 26

**I know, I know. I'm so sorry. Have I lost all of my reviewers because I made you guys wait too long? I hope not! I'm prepared to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness!

* * *

**_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

Here's the deal: What would you do if you loved some random Elf-chick you met in the forest, and said Elf-chick's dad gets pissed and sends you off on a mission to get three sparkly jewels from the Dark Lord's crown? Oh, and then you get imprisoned by the aforementioned Dark Lord's chief servant. It seems I'm in a slight bit of trouble, so if you have any suggestions, please send them to the Tower of Tol Sirion, Beleriand, care of Sauron. Thanks, dude.

Beren the One-Handed

P.S: Oh, and you might want to help out on this one - you're going to be one of my descendants, apparently.

***

Dear Beren,

YOU. It's because of YOU that I'm going through this hell with my daughter!

YOU.

I've half a mind to completely ignore your letter. But, as you said, if you're dead then who knows what the hell is going to happen to my ancestors, so against my better judgment…

Have your future wife (did I spoil the ending for you? I'm sorry) sing something pretty and yadayadayada some stuff will happen and blahblahblah Manwë will send some eagles and everything will be wonderful.

Wasn't that just terribly helpful?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Jedi Master Luthien_

Dear Adar,

Why does Elrohir have more fangirls than me? We're identical twins, for crying out loud! I'm even 7.4391728 minutes older than him. This is not fair!

A very disgruntled Elladan

***

Dear Elladan,

Well, dear son, for some reason females seem to be attracted to males who are, dare I say, _sensitive._

I know. I don't understand it either.

But, nevertheless, I really do think it's the twincest fangirls who you should be wary of, and not your brother's fangirls. Actually, you should be _glad_ that you have less because really they're scary little brats.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_

Dear Elrond,

Ever since we got back to the Shire, life just hasn't seemed as exciting as before. We've all gone back to our normal routines and, well...it has gotten quite boring. As such, Merry, thinking that he is cleverer, has taken to playing pranks on everyone. I admit it was fun watching those being pranked, but I unfortunately have become one of them.

It was after one night in which I had perhaps one too many refills to my mead, ale, some pirate rum...oh at that point I don't even remember what I drank...and woke up with a horrible headache and no hair on my feet! Now, as you know, this is one important feature for any distinguished hobbit, and having no foot hair has severely diminished my confidence so much so, that I've considered investing in some shoes...or at least some socks. But how foolish that would look! How am I to find a nice girl now?!?! Anyways, I was wondering if you had any ideas on how to get back at him. And perhaps any ideas on what to do about my feet.

I'd appreciate any suggestions,  
Pippin

***

Dear Pippin,

Like usual, I will refer all prank requests to my demon-sons because I can't be seen giving advice of that nature…it will lead to nothing good.

As for your feet, I have noticed that Mithrandir (or Gandalf as you silly little hobbits know him) has insanely shaggy eyebrows. Maybe someday when he's sleeping you could sneak over to him and with a little _snipsnip_ and some adhesive, why, you could have hairy feet once more!

Let me know how it goes…

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond

I just wanted to let you know that we of the Society Against the Abuse of Sentient Inanimate Objects (SAASIO) find your treatment (direct or indirect) of the One Ring to be appalling, and you will be hearing from our lawyers within a month.

Hope you are well,  
The Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
Co-Leader of SAASIO  
(Written by the Hogwarts Enrolment Quill)

***

Dear the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,

First of all, congratulations on your marriage to the Scarf of Sexual Preference. I do hope you have a nice life together. As for the treatment of the One Ring, have you ever met that ridiculous thing? Because if you had then you would be begging me to continue my "abusive treatment" on the stupid golden band.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Oh, and my lawyers actually have brains and opposable thumbs, so don't mess.

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

I was playing my bongos on the balcony last evening when I saw this odd little creature bumbling about the walkway below saying something about a ring and how he wanted to see it only one more time. It was a very strange thing to overhear. This isn't what concerns me however. What I was really wondering  
about is why he appears to be a guest of yours (he had on a very small Last Homely House fluffy white bathrobe), and why on Arda I cannot tell WHAT he is. The last time you had a guest was about sixty years ago, and if I remember correctly the guest was a slight bit taller, though I cannot be sure when it concerns mortals.

Cordially,  
Lindir

***

Dear Lindir,

Ah, well, I've told Bilbo a thousand times not to wander around at night, as the elves could quite possibly mistake him for a very large rabbit or perhaps a rather small dragon (though the former is more likely) and shoot him…

I'll have to talk to him once more. And Bilbo is a hobbit, you silly minstrel. Jeez.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I so do enjoy your rendition of "Womanizer" on your bongos. Could you possibly come and play it for me later?

P.P.S: Ignore the part about the ring. A ring? What ring? Who? Where am I?

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Elrond,

Last night I had the strangest dream in which I watched as Boromir and the Lady Galadriel made love passionately on the Lawn while he was in Lórien. Now this has me confused. I was told by Aragorn that Boromir had said he could not find any peace there and wasn't the Lawn the place where the Fellowship  
stayed? If so would they would have had to see them and judging from what I saw it would have been quite a show!

Anyway I would appreciate your clarification on this.

Sincerely,  
Faramir

***

Dear Faramir,

Er, that is quite disgusting. Almost as disgusting as Gimli lusting after my mother-in-law. Please never repeat that to anyone else, or it's quite possible the nice men in white coats will come and take you away.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: TheHeadDelinquent at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatElvenking at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Advice column my ass!

Dear Perv:

I am shocked - SHOCKED, I tell you - to discover that not only is my one and only air-headed heir shacked up with a DWARF (Ew… kissing around all that hair has got to be just… yuck! *shudder*) has a Prince Albert AND one of those "extra" adornments with… erm… reinvigorating properties (that musta HURT, dontcha think - and do you think that would give the fangirls a better…. Never mind…) only to be informed by a recently deceased messenger (not my fault - he shoulda ducked!) that it was YOU who advised this…this…

Oh Elrond! How could you?!

This is even worse than the drag queen act that he learned in Rohan (which is your fault too, because you sent him on that blasted Quest. I had him SO nicely caged at home before YOU stuck your toes in…) and embellished with new moves from Erestor (the one with that thing he does with his hips IS quite  
intriguing; although when I tried it, all I did was throw my back out.) As a father (those monsters ARE yours, right?) I would have thought you'd have known better!

So… This is your fault. You fix it. I insist. You SO owe me huge for this one, sucker!

Oh yes. And, by the way, while I appreciate your attempt to provide me quality feminine companionship by urging me to hook up with this "Mirror Image" being, it seems she found livelier sport long before she came anywhere near my Halls. I am told that the new sounds that accompany her revised song come from none other than Haldír of Lothlórien. And my squirrels have informed me that you are attempting to ride to his rescue.

Well, be informed that your heroic efforts may be underappreciated. Not all those shrieks sound horrific - there are an awful lot of giggles, both masculine AND feminine, not to mention more than a few easily-understood "Yee-Haw!"s. I do believe the two love-birds have found an abandoned  
spider web, turned it into a hammock, and are enjoying whatever it is they're doing while hanging suspended from two trees. If you insist on your rescue attempt, just follow the giggles. It's as good as SONAR. The spiders will enjoy the peace and quiet again, and have asked me to tell you thank you in advance.

Remember: send me back my son, sans Prince Albert and resized One Ring. And do NOT include the Dwarf in the package, if you hope to find peace at any time in the near or distant future. Understand? NO DWARF!

Thranduil - Great and Powerful King of the Greenwood (who knows better than to write advice columns and get himself in trouble. That he leaves to you. Yee-Haw!)

***

To: ChestHair at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatElvenLord at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Oh, poor, naïve Thranduil…

Dear Lame-o,

Listen, dumbass: King Henry VIII hasn't been born yet, and therefore divorce still isn't invented. I know you read this advice column every week (you're not fooling anyone—I know the lovesick anonymous entries that don't get put in the column are from you!) and if you're too stupid to realize that you raised a MORON then it isn't my problem.

In short, piss off.

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, labradorite is on her way to rescue Haldír (I don't believe a word you say, as I have personally spoken to Haldír about his rivalry with MI and I can assure you that his heart and "Yee-Haw!"s belong to someone else) so you should expect her within a few days. If you want to keep her there, I wouldn't say no.

And how exactly would you know that Legolas is sans Prince Albert & co.? Hmm? I mean, I know incest has been embraced in the fanfiction community, but c'mon…that's just wrong.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by JimandSteve_

Dear _heehee_ Elrond,

I have, uh, these scars you see on my face and I'm constantly having people come up to me and ask me how I got them. So, instead of being boring, I've been coming up with lots of different stories (don't worry, nothing too far from the truth. I'm a man of simple taste) only one very big problem has  
happened. I really don't remember how I DID get them.

Batsy here told me you're an elf, so OBVIOUSLY you have all the answers. So...here's what we're going to do. Find out how I really got my scars or I'll give your sons much needed…erm…smiles.

The Joker

***

Dear the Joker,

How the hell am I supposed to know how you got those scars? I've only seen your new movie once (it was quite good, for the record. You're scary as hell) and it was so damn long that by the end I had forgotten all the stories you told!

I'll tell you what. Think of the 34th story you told, and settle on that one as the real one. Sound good?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheOneAndOnlyGlitter_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I'm not sure how exactly I'm writing to you, but at this point I don't care because I'm so desperate. You see, my life was good at first; I had an owner named Steve who treated me well even though it seemed that he was high all the time and saw "clues" randomly floating above his head. I know. What a nut job.

Later on, he went off to college (even though he looked to be in his 30s) and I got stuck with his brother Joe. Joe was just weird and to be honest I didn't like him that much, but I prefer being with him than how my life is now. Somehow, I got turned into a puppet! How did I deserve that? Well, you're an elf and you're wise, do you have any idea how to get me back to normal?

Please help!  
Blue Who needs a Clue

***

Dear Blue,

You know, I didn't know you were a girl until someone told me! I suppose that's just sexist of me, but I thought you were male and your friend Violet was your girlfriend, or something. Isn't that silly?

Anyway, I do not possess powers to make puppets back into cartoon dogs, but I think my friend Pinocchio might, so you should ask him. He's a real boy, after all.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

THE VOW I MADE WAS FOR HERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!

And I royally effed up. Help?

Prince Derek

***

_Haldír and labradorite have composed the reply to this letter via cell phone, as Elrond couldn't figure out a nice way to tell Prince Derek he's a total loser._

Dear Derek,

You should write a book. _How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less_. We've started some for you.

Well, there's the classic: What else is there?

You look like my dad.

Your face is shiny.

I'd rather not.

My therapist says…

You smell like fish.

What is that?

Don't touch that.

Good thing love is blind.

Make me dinner.

Wear something else.

It's not _that _small.

This won't take long.

That's what she said.

Tickle my fancy.

Who are you?

That tastes weird.

Put those away.

You should shave.

Those should get you started nicely. I'm sure you'll find some more ways to insult the "love of your life."

Haldír

* * *

My Dearest Elrond-muffin-pants,

You know my love for you runs deeper than a bowl of rice, but I must speak with you about something. I went to talk to your friend Thranduil and not only was he completely unhelpful (there were random women running around half-dressed and speaking in a very confusing way. But he seemed to enjoy it, so I took some notes) but he threw me into the forest! He was not very welcoming at all.

Haldír (he is _quite _dashing, isn't he? I didn't realize the elf who was writing back to me all this time was so _cute_!) found me first (well, technically some spider whose collar read "Bruno" found me first, but that isn't the point) and we're on our way back to Imladris.

That partner of yours (you aren't cheating on me, are you, honey? I understand if you are, but we should at least talk about a three-some first) isn't making the trip back with us, I don't know why, but I'm happy to have more private time to stare and drool at Haldír.

Don't be jealous, my love. No one could ever take your place in my heart.

We'll be back soon, and then our romance can commence once more.

With all of my love and a bowl of rice,

Mirror Image

P.S: wud u like it if i tlkd lyke this? Teh fangrlz do + thranduil is vry happy bout it! lolz xoxo

***

Dear Mirror Image,

Your face is shiny.

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: I think someone stole my muse…so if you see a purple fluffy thing wandering around with a nametag that says "Ronnie's Muse" on it, could you please FedEx it back to me? Thanks.**

**Police Officer/Sailor/Pirate/Firemen/Doctor characters for reviewers this time! I think some role-plays are in order ;D Enjoy!**

**And thank you to those of you who have reviewed anonymously and who have added this story to their Favorites. Your love is what has kept this story going :) **


	27. Chapter 27

**Okay, guys. Two letter-chapters left. If I'm going to get these chapters out in the timeline I have set, I **_**need **_**your help. Any letters or ideas you've had or written would be greatly appreciated :) You all have been amazing this entire story and I just want to finish on a really good note.**

**Letters can now be in both reviews and PMs! Please and thank you!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by ElvishNutcase_

Dear Elrond,

I am an Atlantean god. I have been for more than 11,000 years. Despite all this, I have had to listen to, obey, and in general put up with a Greek goddess who is weaker than me. I'm not sure what to do about all this because we are erm, well. You get the idea. Anyway, I have found the girl of my dreams and am not sure what to do about the goddess. Should I feed her to my demon daughter? Should I curse her into oblivion?

Ash

***

Dear Ash,

Listen, we all know that no matter how powerful we males THINK we are, the women really do run the show. Like they say in that movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"…the woman is the neck, or some such nonsense.

I suppose the easy thing to do would be to just allow her to do whatever she wants…everyone's lives will be easier in the long run.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheFightingTemeraire_

Dear Elrond,

I haven't seen my husband in several thousand years. I'm quite anxious to reunite and possibly get around to having those offspring we were always discussing. Anyway, I'm feeling a bit bad now for taking an extended vacay with the girls, as I'm sure he doesn't recollect who I even am. He had Senior Moments, even when he was young! The thing is, we're lost and really don't know how to get back to Fangorn. Is there anything you can do for us about directions?

Sincerely,  
Mossface

***

Dear Mossface,

Fangorn is a giant, ancient forest…how could you possibly forget where it's located? I could draw you a map on the back of a napkin, for crying out loud! Look, find Isengard and go north. If you hit Forodwaith you've gone too far.

And may I just say that when you eventually get home that you, er, make it up to your husbands in a very kind way. They've been waiting a long time.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

I'm trying to take control of that snobby bunch living at Pride Rock and I'm planning to do this by murdering my brother Mufasa, then killing off that nephew of mine. Really, Simba is quite annoying - he just can't wait to be king, which interferes with _my_ plans, because _I_ can't wait to be king. Just saying this to warn everyone. Be prepared.

Scar

***

Dear Scar,

Listen. I know you're still hurt over the fact that your sister-in-law didn't answer your booty call but you have to realize that it probably made her uncomfortable considering she was pregnant with your brother's son…

There's no reason to take it out on the zebras because you can't get laid, my boy. I'm sure the hyenas are more than willing to satisfy your…needs. That's just the circle of life.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why you're telling me this. I mean, what am I supposed to do about it? You live in Africa…and I'm either from the very distant past or another world completely…

Hakuna Matata,

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lady Ambreanna_

Dearest buddy elf

The wonderful thing about tiggers...is tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber...their bottoms are made out of springs! They're bouncy! Flouncy! Touncy! Pouncy! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is I'm the only one! I'm the only one!  
HooHooHooHoo!

T I double G ER

P.S. Actually, I'm hoping I'm NOT the only one! If you see any she type tiggers, could you bounce her my way? Thanks!

***

Dear Tigger,

You're a little…crazy.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kurbi_

Dearest, most beloved and revered Lord Elrond,

First, let me express my wonder, adoration, and devoted fanship for you and your world. I have long suspected that such an intricate tale could be no mere work of fiction, and I have remained faithful. Not even the jibes of idiot coworkers could deter me from the one true path of Tolkienism.

Question: my boss, Michael, has just returned to the Scranton branch after starting, masterfully operating, and selling his own business. Now, he's brought that simpering, pandering bleached-blond baby back to the office: The Temp, The Fire Guy, The Fired Guy -- in other words, Ryan Howard. I am painfully familiar with Michael's soft spot for the Temp, who doesn't even appreciate the staggering honor which has been bestowed upon him, and I fear for the security of my position as Assistant Regional Manager. What can I do to show Michael who's the truly deserving one?

Sincerely and humbly,  
Dwight K. Schrute

P.S: Can I visit you?

***

Dear Dwight,

I seem to have gotten a lot of crazies writing in this column…

Answer: While I am flattered by your obsession, I feel as though you've forgotten that your boss is a LOON.

A LOON.

You should go work at Staples and be with people who truly appreciate you, Dwight.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Since I last wrote to you I have learned that my "dream" of Boromir and your mother-in-law making love on the Lawn was in error. Apparently, the Lady meant to show _me_ making love to her but the new telepathy application for her Mirror glitched and inserted Boromir instead!

I'm totally confused by all of this. I have only met the Lady of Light just once and all we did was exchange the usual pleasantries that go with the formal gathering we were in. Not once during that time did I get the impression she was interested in me in that fashion. If anything she seemed disappointed that I wasn't more like Boromir something that my father Denethor had a habit of doing.

Anyway if you could get to the bottom of this for me I would be eternally grateful!

Sincerely,  
Faramir

***

Dear Faramir,

…Ew.

She's my MOTHER-IN-LAW. And her husband is big and scary. Sorry, you're on your own with this one.

Because….ew.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheOneAndOnlyGlitter_

Dear Grand-Ada,

Yes, I'm writing to you again, do not question how otherwise the future may hang in the balance. Well, not really, but I need to be dramatic since I'm going to be king, don't you agree? Anyway, I mentioned to you the last time we spoke about how I wanted to be an elf, and you told me you would talk to my mother about this. However, the future version (well for you anyway, present version for me) of my mother slapped me in the face for wanting such a thing, which I can only assume you had something to do with. So I've come up with a brilliant plan: do you think I could stay with you in your time for a bit? Do not ask how, because who knows what could happen if I told you, let's just say it might change the course of history. So, could you please prepare a room for me? That would be great Grand-Ada, I'll hopefully see you soon!

Eldarion

P.S: I heard you had a mortal girl working with you by the name of labradorite, I was wondering if this whole becoming immortal thing doesn't work, could I take her as my queen? That would be awesome, because almost every girl who wants to be my queen appears to only be able to say, "oh em gee  
eldary! Aww oh em gee yuh r so kuhyute! will yuh marri me eldary?! i wuv yuh 4eva!" It's a living nightmare.

***

Dear Eldarion,

labradorite let out an excited "SQUEEEEE!!!" at your post script, so there you go.

Sure, dear boy, you may stay with me. But keep in mind you'll have to be very careful to avoid your mother. If she were to see you I can't even imagine the chaos it will cause…if only because she'll flip out and go around singing "I Want it That Way" by The Backstreet Boys again…

Someday I'm going to kill Glorfindel for teaching her that song.

When you come, could you please bring some other people who are from the future/past/beyond? Like your grandmother, perhaps, or maybe George Clooney.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

We demand payment every time your daughter runs around singing our songs.

The Backstreet Boys

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_

Elrond,

This is more of a complaint than my seeking advice. I find it in very poor taste for you to have suggested that Pippin seek help from your two sons on the issue regarding his hairless feet. Honestly, have I wronged you in some way? Do you know what they did to my eyebrows?!?! I'll have you know that I could very properly put any troublesome hobbit in their place just by raising one of said brows. But now, every time I try to intimidate them (for getting up to no good of course) they just burst into fits of laughter...I never realized how annoying it was till I was the one laughed at... But more to the point! I have some advice for you... You had best watch your brows! You wouldn't want anything unnatural to happen to them, and I understand that Haldír of Lothlórien has expressed interest in a paralyzing agent called Botox. Why don't we tame the brows that you so rely on.

Gandalf,

P.S: I took the liberty of sending your sons back home. Really! What were you thinking?! Sending those two to the Shire!

P.P.S: I sent some fireworks along with them in hopes of keeping them occupied for a while. Have fun.

***

Dear Gandalf,

I have a ring of power and I'm not afraid to use it.

Wait. That threat doesn't work on you.

I HAVE LORD GLORFINDEL AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE HIM.

Don't come near my eyebrows.

I'm warning you. I have relatives from the future who will protect me. And sexy actors.

But thank you for the fireworks!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond "Doofus" Peredhel,

Sorry it took so long to reply, but I was having WAY too much fun in the Void with Lúthien, the most beautiful maiden to have ever lived! (Yes! Prettier than that bratty Evenstar of yours so don't ask.) Did you know, if you weren't so blatantly STUPID and had followed me to mortality, you would be having fun out here too with every dead female of Arda! But NO! You just had to be different, didn't you?

First things first, if you had just admitted that you were a doofus, you would've saved me ink - but yes, it absolutely is completely your fault that tens of thousands perished in a war over a shiny ring due to your failure to destroy that ring because you chose instead to indulge in homosexual fantasies!

Now, let's take a look at the scoreboard, shall we?

1) I am mortal, you are not. 1-0 for me straight off the bat!  
2) You have three immature, spoiled brats for progeny, whereas my four children, one of whom became KING of Númenor, were all very well-behaved. 2-0 for me.  
3) My afterlife with Lúthien must be exponentially better than anything you will EVER experience. 3-0.

Furthermore, don't try to deny that you're an Elven Ruler Test failure whereas I am the founding King of the greatest civilization to have ever existed. You'll have to accept that Thranduil was actually telling the truth.

So in short, don't EVER remind me again that we are actually related in some way. It would be impossible.

Elros Tar-Minyatur, Glorious King of Númenor

***

Dear Elros,

I…don't know how to reply to you…first you complain about being related to me, an immortal, and then you tell me we're not related? I don't understand. It's liking talking to Dwight Schrute.

Let's look at the scoreboard from _my _point of view.

1) I am immortal, and therefore much more ethereal and beautiful and powerful and _awesome. _3-3.  
2) You have obviously never bonded to an elleth from Lothlórien. 12-3.  
3) I employ Lord Glorfindel. 36,980,275-3.

So, I win. This conversation is over.

Elrond, wearer of Vilya, Lord of Imladris, father of the Evenstar, and arch-nemesis of Thranduil

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I'm in love with this girl Rachel. I know that she feels the same way, because we've dated on an off for about 10 years. Our relationship was at a standstill while I was married to a lesbian…and then when I finally realized my true feelings for her she started dating some annoying Italian douchebag slut. Well, we _finally_ got together but broke up after I "cheated" on her once (WE WERE ON A BREAK), and then we got back together but we broke up after I didn't read her 18 page letter (FRONT AND BACK). _Then _I realized how much I loved her again after I said her name at my wedding and then later _we _accidentally got married in Vegas…and I got her pregnant at one point…anyway, I've effed it up once again and she's flying to Paris and I'd like your advice.

Ross Geller

***

_Considering Elrond has only been with one female in his entire life, he thought Haldír would be the better selection for dating advice._

Dear Ross,

…Wow…

Maybe if you didn't spend every waking moment of your life drinking coffee and sitting on a giant orange couch with your friends, you would be better at this dating thing…

First things first: stop talking about dinosaurs. Past the age of five, it's not cool to talk about dinosaurs.

Second: When it comes to hair gel…less is more. There's no need to look like you have shoe polish all over your head.

Third: Speak quicker. If it keeps taking you several years to finish sentences, how will you ever explain to Rachel that you're sorry _again_?

Man, it's time to know a lost cause when you see one…but a nice bouquet of flowers and an engagement ring never hurts.

Good luck!

Haldír of Lothlórien

* * *

Dear Elrond,

We feel really unappreciated in our job. We're forced to run through the snow pulling insanely heavy wagons (they even tried to get us drunk beforehand. The _nerve _of some people!), train Dalmatians who want to pull wagons _for _us (we're not even secured in our jobs, if you can believe it), and act in other silly Super Bowl commercials. They treat us like animals here. It's just not fair! We hear you elves take good care of your horses and we'd like to come live with you. What say you?

The Budweiser Clydesdales

P.S: We were referred by a nice little creature called Bill the Pony, who mentioned something about a quest to certain death. We'd like to be exempt from said journeys.

***

Dear Clydesdales,

We have lovely stables here, and if I do say so myself we treat our animals better than our citizens. At least, from what I've seen we treat our horses better than we treat our Elven Lords. But I digress.

Exactly how many of you are there? I do so enjoy those commercials during the Super Bowl, and it's a shame you won't be present in them anymore…maybe the 101 Dalmatians can take over as sponsors.

Why exactly are giant furry horses representative of beer? Just wondering.

Anyway, let me be the first to welcome you to Imladris. My only request is for you to kick a certain Elven King where the sun don't shine if you ever were to see him.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I see that you're still unwilling to recognize your love for me. I think it's possible you have intimacy issues. Could this be due to a strange mortal brother who doesn't love you enough?

To cheer you up I've written you a lovely song to lift up your spirits.

Close your eyes, make a wish  
And blow out the candlelight  
For tonight is just your night  
We're gonna celebrate, all through the night  
Pour the wine, light the fire  
Girl your wish is my command  
I submit to your demands  
I will do anything, girl you need only ask

_Chorus_  
I'll make love to you  
Like you want me to  
And I'll hold you tight  
Baby all through the night  
I'll make love to you  
When you want me to  
And I will not let go  
'Till you tell me to

Girl relax, let's go slow  
I ain't got nowhere to go  
I'm just goin' to concentrate on you  
Girl are you ready, it's gonna be a long night  
Throw your clothes on the floor  
I'm gonna take my clothes off too  
I've made plans to be with you  
Girl whatever you ask me, you know I can do

_Chorus_

Baby tonight is your night  
And I will do you right  
Just make a wish on your night  
Anything that you ask  
I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life

_Repeat Chorus x2_

I _will _make love to you, my dear. Just say when and where.

Mirror Image

***

Dear MI,

Er…well, like those wonderful Beatles said…hatred is all you need.

Or something along those lines.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Plagiarism is illegal. You'll be hearing from our lawyers.

Boys II Men

P.S: Tell The Backstreet Boys we say hi.

* * *

**A/N: Once upon a time, Ronnie had a looooong list of **_**Ask Elrond **_**ideas. Once upon a time, Ronnie had a Muse that was willing to work.**

**Both of them may or may not have ended up in my jeans pocket and in the wash. Soggy Muses are unhappy Muses, and soggy lists of ideas are unhappy lists of ideas.**

**C'est la vie, apparently.**

**Reviewers get the undying love of the author, both because she realized how much it's costing her to mail out those characters, and because she is too tired to come up with anything better.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Two chapters left. **

…**D:**

**You guys have been amazing. Please help me finish this with a bang by submitting letters for Chapter 29! And quickly, if you don't mind…I only have a few days before I need to post again. I really couldn't have gotten this chapter out without your awesome support.**

**Oh, and I officially have 10 days before I take off, so posting these next 3 chapters is going to be a WHIRLWIND. Hope you guys are ready for this!!**

* * *

_Idea submitted by dinopoodle_

Dear Elrond,

I have received word that you and your brother Elros have been fighting. Again. You should know better than that—remember what happened the last time you two had a letter war? I hear Lord Erestor still hasn't given up his cross-dressing obsession. What is this about? Is this about the toy train we didn't buy you for Christmas one year? Get over it, Elrond.

I WILL turn this car around, so don't make me come back there.

Sincerely

Your loving parents

***

Dear Ada and Naneth,

It's not my fault! I swear! I didn't do it! Elros started it!!

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

Dear Elrond,

We have the Muse. Tell labradorite that if she wants it back, she has to send Haldír with a suitcase full of mini M&Ms to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Do not contact the Aurors or the Muggle police. We will know (or, at least, the Magic Mirror will know). We are serious about this. Do not try to outsmart us - you don't know where we keep our brains.

We will let you know the date and time that the exchange is to be made.

Signed collectively,  
The Society Against the Abuse of Sentient Inanimate Objects

***

Dear SAASIO,

labradorite is trying to pry the computer out of my hands as I type this, weeping and offering several rather interesting bribes…

But as an official rule, we don't negotiate with terrorists. Or inanimate objects. Even if you CAN talk.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear Elrond,

In a nutshell: I am creating a new universe called Ea 2.0 and would appreciate any suggestions for improvement you may have, you from the perspective of an inhabitant of Ea 1.0

I already have a few in mind, such as:

1) NOT to entrust the governance of the world into the hands of spoiled, bratty Valar obviously more concerned with their relationship issues than the state of the world.  
2) NOT to permit Morgoth or Sauron or the Balrogs or any evil being or creature to enter the world. Enough said?  
3) NOT to allow said lazy Valar too lethargic to kick down Barad-dûr to add insult to injury by sending "assistance" in the form of five decrepit old men. Two get lost somewhere immediately. A third spends his life talking to birds. A fourth becomes evil. And the only one true to the mission was imprisoned by the evil one...  
4) NOT to allow you (or your superior equivalent in the Universe 2.0) to have such scary eyebrows. In a perfect universe, we both know there has to be a limit EVEN for eyebrows!

With supreme godliness,  
Eru Ilúvatar

P.S: I will NOT have mortal women from other worlds kidnapping MY Children and debasing them! Tell this labradorite that she is to release them immediately and leave. Get out of my universe! NO LABRADORITE!

P.P.S: It is ever so convenient to drop a lightning bolt somewhere...piece of god cake...

***

Dear Eru Ilúvatar,

I am more than willing to support your upgrade, and will download it ASAP…but I don't think I agree with clause number four. You aren't around all the time and you wouldn't _believe _the chaos that ensues when I don't have my scary eyebrows to back me up. There was this one time that Haldír thought it would be funny to shave off my eyebrows (and Gandalf's) and the anarchy…

Oi.

Let me see the revised contract when you're done. I can copy-edit it for you and make sure everything is set.

I also agree with the NO LABRADORITE clause. Wholeheartedly agree. Enthusiastically. Unconditionally. Categorically. Emphatically. Heartily. Sincerely. Unreservedly.

A LOT.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Blast this modern technology! I have been trying to send to Faramir a visual message showing my love for the man while I ravish him on the Lawn, but my wife's Mirror keeps glitching and inserting her in my place and Boromir in my dearest's!

I'm hoping you have an answer for this glitching. I hate to call tech support since I can't understand the black speech they use.

Sincerely,  
Lord Celeborn

***

Dear Celeborn,

Thank you so very much for providing me with that mental image. I feel it will be burned into my mind for the rest of eternity.

I have no such answer, as I have never attempted to show a male mortal my love for them through an enchanted mirror. Well, that's not exactly true, but we aren't talking about Isildur right now.

Ask Gandalf, as I think he may have encountered something similar during his strange infatuation with Halbarad.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Pimpernel Princess_

Dear Elrond,

I am always so sad and grumpity. The students here at the school where I teach potions despise me as much as I despise them. I have been unsuccessful at trying to procure the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Obviously.

I was in love once, with a girl, but she married some hot-shot wizard jock. After her death, I swore to protect her son from the Dark Lord. Her son is obnoxious: after I taught his potion class, Harry and his little orange friend pushed me into the wall screaming "Bother! Bother! Bother!" Later, they repeated the vile act until I lost consciousness. Then, they ransacked my room and stole my diary. They even read the entry about when I lost my virginity.

Bothered,  
Snape the Potions Master at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

***

Dear Snape,

We have had several conversations in the past, and my advice hasn't changed: TAKE A SHOWER. Everyone probably hates you because you SMELL.

But what year in _Harry Potter _are you? Because if you just wait until Harry's sixth year you should be the DADA professor.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Wait…you've lost your virginity? WHEN?!

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_

Dear Elrond,

What is this I hear about a ring of power? Why I do believe my plans for world domination have been rather one-sided in favor of the more scientific approach. But, I say, this ring might be more helpful than my previous attempts. Do you by chance happen to know if it controls people as well? It would be positively marvelous to give the vile woman who derives pleasure in forcing broccoli down my throat a taste of her own sadistic medicine.

I look forward to your correspondence,  
Stewie Griffin

***

Dear Stewie,

You should contact one Mr. Dwight Schrute, as I think you and he would get along just swimmingly.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure where the Ring of Power is at the moment. That's frightening enough without imagining you and your rather violent tendencies…

Contact Dwight, like I suggested. He's interested in offing someone named Jim?

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lady Ambreanna_

Hey Elrond,

You just master-minded the greatest quest ever, lost your beloved daughter to the newly crowned king of Gondor, and "retired" as Lord of Imladris! What are you going to do now?

Mickey Mouse

***

Dear Mickey,

Who's the leader of the club  
That's made for you and me?  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E  
Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! there  
You're as welcome as can be!  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!

Mickey Mouse!

Mickey Mouse!

Forever let us hold our banner  
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song  
And join the jamboree!  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!

That's the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw your letter. Anyway, Disney World really _is _where dreams come true, so you might be seeing me in the future! I'd love to meet Aladdin.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lackam_

Dear Elrond,

I am enamored of a certain golden haired Lady who will be sailing soon without her spouse. I have secretly been in love with her for literally ages (since before she sailed). My problem is that she and every other female think I am arrogant, stuck up, ugly, a brown-noser to my boss and that something is seriously wrong with me because I have remained alone so long. Help!

How do I explain that I am none of these things? I just do not have the time to spend on myself to make myself pretty (you try being Herald to Manwë and General of the Armies of Arda). Since I know she will be without spouse soon, how can I change her view of me and win her heart?

Desperately seeking advice,  
Eönwë

***

Dear Eönwë,

Well, females are, for some reason, attracted to bad boys, aren't they? I mean, you _are _the greatest in arms in Arda! And you have two of the Silmarils? Females like shiny things too.

You could always use the pick-up lines Haldír suggested a few chapters ago, though I don't promise those will work very well.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by TheOneAndOnlyGlitter_

Dear Grand-Ada,

I'm just letting you know that I'm on my way over, and I have successfully kidnapped--I mean, I'm bringing over George Clooney and my grandmother. You really should thank me, because George Clooney was only brought because I managed to knock him out (however the black eye does make him look attractive), and grandmother passed out when I told her who I was. Bad move. Anyway, I was wondering another thing. I'm not sure if you eat anything but lembas in Rivendell, so would you mind if I brought pizza? It's basically bread with cheese and tomato on it, and after many death glares I managed to get one of the palace chefs to make me some, so I hope you will enjoy it! If not labradorite and I can split it. I can't wait to meet her, especially since she said yes (well "SQUEEE!" technically, but same idea). Well, I will be in Rivendell shortly, so please lock my mother somewhere where she won't notice my arrival. Thank you!

Eldarion

P.S: No, I will not protect you from Gandalf. Everything my father has told me about him terrifies me, so not a chance. Sorry!

***

Dear Eldarion,

Your mother is currently in Mirkwood; at least I think she is. I have to be honest that I was hoping she wouldn't marry your father, but I hope you won't hold that against me. Thank you for bringing George Clooney—maybe Arwen will like him and Aragorn will get jealous and DISAPPEAR.

And most likely I'm not going to see you much on your trip, since you're bringing your grandmother along and I haven't seen her in a really long time…you'll understand when you're older. Or maybe when labradorite gets her hands on you.

Lord Elrond

P.S: A fat lot of help you are to me! No more help than your ancestors!

* * *

_Idea submitted by save the wildcats_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I recently watched a certain movie entitled Priscilla Queen of the Desert. I won't go into too much detail about the plotline of this fascinating film; I'll simply say it involved three drag queens in a lavender bus. And well, the point I'm getting to is that one of the drag queens, by the name of Mitzi, looked a heck of a lot like you. He (she?) even had your eyebrows. I'm kind of worried for you, and I shudder to think of what kind of awful blackmail Thranduil could procure should he see this movie. Care to explain?

ScarredForLife

***

Dear Scarred,

I would _not _care to explain, but thank you for warning me. I can't imagine what would happen if Thranduil found out what Erestor, Glorfindel and I have been up to after Celebrían left. A man gets lonely, I'll have you know. Well, and elf I guess.

Mitz—Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kurbi_

Dearest and most glorious Lord Elrond,

Though I trust your judgment as Elven Lord and all-around wise being implicitly, I don't think you understand about Michael. He's not a loon! He's a complete genius; like James Bond, only better. Irresistible to women, deadly to his enemies. Well, maybe not deadly--he has rather poor reflexes, and  
slightly sub-par physical endurance by Schrute standards--but fairly dangerous all the same. Could outsell 'em ten to one.

Anyway, I checked with Staples and they're willing to take me back as a senior salesman. Do you really think I should? I believe that I am meeting or even exceeding my own expectations in my current work environment, but I trust your opinion.

Reverently,  
Dwight K. Schrute

P.S: I will travel to New Zealand and walk the Lord of the Rings trail, and then I will hike Mount Doom. But I'd rather see the original. Please?

***

Dear Dwight,

You might be getting a call from a rather talkative baby with excellent diction. Just so you know.

You can come to Middle Earth if you'd like, though I won't take responsibility for how you get here. Once you get here take a left and follow the blond elves. Thranduil will take goooooood care of you.

Sooner or later I have a feeling someone is going to tell Thranduil how many people I've asked to see him…

Lord Elrond

* * *

Dear Elrond,

I'd like you to write a letter of complaint for me to Peter Jackson. I've been hanging out with labradorite back on Earth (they have the _greatest _food here. Have you ever heard of pizza?) and we watched those movies…did you know that I DIE in that version?

DID YOU?!

HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!

I feel betrayed. Here I am, offering endless amounts of entertainment to this ridiculous advice column, and you decide to keep something like this from me.

I am very upset with you, Elrond. I foresee forced Botox in your future.

Haldír

***

Dear Haldír,

Well, as this advice column has no logical timeline or coherent order to it, I'm going to go with this statement:

"The war of the ring is already over, and you are still alive. So HAH."

…sound good?

Good.

Lord Elrond

P.S: I can command an entire army and rule an Elven Haven with the lift of a single eyebrow. How intense does my face have to be?

* * *

Dear Elrond,

Okay, so, I have this problem. My story is a fairly well-known one. You know, "Cinderella and her Evil Stepsisters" and what not. Here's the problem, though: nobody gets the story right. It's true, the hot prince definitely had this rad party and we totally hooked up—but we never got married. I mean, seriously. What year is it? Who gets married just 'cause some guy returns your shoe? I don't even remember much of the party…there was a _lot _of booze.

What do you think I should do? I mean, it's flattering and all, but who really wants to constantly be reminded of the fact that the hottest guy in the kingdom turned out to be a total prick?

Cinderella

***

Dear Cinderella,

I can see why you wouldn't want your quickie in the third floor bathroom so publicized...I mean, he filled your shoe with drugs first, didn't he? Wow. Well, as far as I know your friend Snow White was cheated on by those dwarves and Aurora totally got schemed by those fairies of hers.

What is it with you older Princesses? Why can't you get your shit together?

As far as I'm concerned that chick Belle knows what she wants out of life, soooo maybe you should give her a text or a meebo or a facechat. That's how you say it, right?

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: I'm still looking for a new avatar, so if you guys have anything for me…**

**I'd like Chapter 29 to be out by next Wednesday so that should give you a basic timeline. **

**Free characters with pool toys for reviews!**


	29. Chapter 29

**So apparently when I said "out next Wednesday" I really meant "weeks later…"**

**I'm blushing. Sorry about the delay, guys. But this chapter is extra-long to make up for it because I pretty much threw in every last idea considering it's the LAST ONE.**

**Aren't you guys going to miss this? Aww. I know I am.**

**  
Well, only one chapter left after this: The Epilogue.**

**So without further ado, here is Chapter 29 of _Ask Elrond_. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

Why am I called the "Golden Snitch"? I don't say a word to anyone about anything I've seen or overheard and believe me that's not easy to do! The daily stuff that goes on in Hogwarts would be enough to keep the Daily Prophet in print for all of eternity!

Anyway, I'm hoping you can clarify this for me. In case you're wondering the Lady Galadriel graciously agreed to write this letter for me since I can't hold a quill with my wings and she is the only one who can hear my thoughts.

Sincerely,  
Goldie

***

Dear Goldie,

God I love puns.

And as soon as I can explain why they're called "quaffles" I'll give you an answer. As for right now, I'm just trying to comprehend how you ended up in Lothlórien…

Anyways, you should write to J.K. Rowling if you have questions of any sort regarding that. I mean, let's count our blessings here. At least you aren't named "Hermione" or "McGonagall."

Or THRANDUIL.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kitiara Uth Matar_

Dear Elrond,

I have read that, in your world, elves are musical, merry, lovely beings who don't go on killing sprees. Either you have cast a spell over the populace, or something has gone wrong with our lot. Our elves are lovely, but nasty. They sing, but you don't want to know what they sing about. They laugh, but normally when they're twisting someone's arm to see how far it will go. If they are related to you, why do you allow your Discworld cousins to run amok like this? And how can we stop them because they are really putting a crimp in my love life.

Confused and Desperate,  
Magrat Garlick, Witch.

P.S: And can you advise anything for frizzy hair? I notice Glorfindel's hair is always lovely.

***

Dear Magrat (eek, you should consider visiting City Hall to adjust that name, sweetheart),

Listen, those crazies are in no way related to us. I mean, J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Pratchett have absolutely nothing to do with one another, so I take no responsibility for those demon-elves you seem to have darting about your world.

Sorry you have to deal with that, but we in Middle Earth are forced to interact with dwarves, so I don't feel that bad for you.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by F-35 Phoenix_

Dear Elrond,

Merry greetings to you, my friend! Though, the tidings of this letter are hardly cheerful...

I'll put it bluntly; it's time to get prepared for the holidays, and my elves are on strike; can I borrow some of yours?

Sincerely,

St. Nick  
aka Chris Cringle  
aka Santa Clause

***

Dear Santa,

Let me make something perfectly clear. My elves do not make toys. Or act jolly. The Elves of Middle Earth and solemn and formal creatures. And we also do not celebrate Christmas.

But I hear the Keebler elves are interested in a change of scenery, so you might want to contact them. At the very least they can bake you something yummy to munch on while you make all of your own toys.

Lord Elrond

* * *

Idea submitted by Kurbi

Dear Elrond,

I am most assuredly not one of your average correspondents; after all, my IQ is the highest tested in Europe and I am in steady communication with various fairy races. However, I would never presume to take precedence over your other *cough* delightful contributors. Please address me as you would any typical mortal.

I note that numerous prior missives have addressed the issue of unwanted fangirls. Therein lies the issue. I have apparently become something of a lust object for young teenagers, and they swarm outside the towering ramparts of Fowl Manor like so many stinging ants, waiting to be squashed. The squashing isn't the problem; Butler has a number of effective methods for fangirl disposal. The issue is what to do with the remains post-disposal. Though Fowl Manor is large and, just as you say, fangirls stack neatly into small spaces, I dislike tripping over them in the dark, and Juliet tires quickly of the dusting.

Do you have any suggestions for their permanent removal? More specifically, have you discovered any methods for converting disabled fangirls into a more valuable medium, such as gold? I am already being watched by numerous intelligence agencies, so discretion is vital.

Many thanks,  
Artemis Fowl II

***

Dear Artemis,

Trust me, oh modest one, I will surely "address you as I would a typical mortal." I didn't take any of Isildur's back sass, baby. No one can bring me down.

Might I suggest a highly active volcano to solve your Mary-Sue disposal issues? I've heard they are quite useful for destroying other flammable objects (have you seen how much hairspray they use?) so you might want to invest in one.

And child, had I figured out a way to turn Mary Sues into gold, I wouldn't be here. I would be in Disney World.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I'm so ready for another enchanted mirror session whenever you are my dearest!

Isildur XOXO

***

Dear Isildur,

On an official, advice column level…no.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Same time, same place. Kisses!

* * *

_Idea submitted by Araloth the Random_

Dear Elrond,

As manager of Thranduil's Mary-Sue Squad I would like to make a formal complaint on behalf of one Laurelindoreanna Quenyamangler, who seems to have issues with telling Thranduil that he is somewhat...underperforming. Please tell me what she can do to inform Thranduil of her concerns without being thrown out of the Caves.

Sincerely,  
Manager of His Highness' King Thranduil's Mary Sue Squad

P.S: If you're wondering why Laurelindoreanna couldn't send this herself, it's because her original draft was so unreadable it might well have been Adunaic. Gah, text-speak.

***

Dear, er, Sir,

Firstly, thank you for not sending me Ms. Quenyamangler's draft. I have had quite enough correspondence with Mary Sue's as of late. And that was frankly TMI into Thranduil's sex life, though I'm not sure why I should be surprised. Tell her that those little blue pills he's stopped taking will help and have her slip one…or five…into his daily lemonade.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by HT_

Dear Lord Elrond

How come I spend all that time with your son, going with him on that stupid death-defying quest, fighting by his side etc, etc, and all I get is a manly grasp on the shoulder. Then Haldír shows up at Helm's Deep and gets a cuddle just for turning up! What am I doing wrong? What does it take for an elf (moi) to get some man-on-elf action around here?

Legolas

***

Dear Legolas,

Dear God, Blondie. You're married to the dwarf already; how much more man-cuddling do you need? Though I suppose I'm asking the wrong person. Frankly I think Estel should be ashamed of himself for he is clearly taking advantage of your loyalty towards him. Bastard. You should make him jealous by giving Halbarad a big hug next time you see him.

Hope all is well with your pregnancy (we haven't talked about that in a while, have we?) and give Gimli my best.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Dinelleth_

Dear Lord Elrond,

I'm honored to hear that you would love to meet me! I've been on my own and lonely ever since Princess Jasmine ran off with Abu and Genie shacked up with someone called Tom Bombadil. I think that is how the guy in the yellow boots spells his name. Anyway he's just as spastic as Genie so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.

Could you please bring some food with you? Dumpster diving in Agrabah isn't what it used to be since the city started to go green and recycle everything!

I eagerly await your arrival!  
Aladdin

***

Dear Aladdin,

You're so dumb. You wasted all that time during _King of Thieves_ that you didn't get married to the Princess and now you're just a smelly peasant again. Though if your ex-fiancé preferred being with a monkey…I don't know what to tell you, man.

Frankly, when I said I wanted to meet you I really mean the guy who dresses up like you in The Magic Kingdom. Sorry for the mix-up. I'll send some food along, though.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Hey! Maybe you can go work for Santa! I hear he needs some help these days! I'll give him your number.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Pimpernel Princess_

Dear Elrond,

I have a rather...er, beastly...problem. My prisoner/houseguest has run away from my enchanted castle. She said something about being the guest of an elf named something like "Elladhir" at a place named "Riverwell." I thought that she had just been reading too many of the books in the library that I had  
given her. I _know_ that roaring at her when she entered my lair in the West Wing was probably the wrong thing to do--but I did go and rescue her from the wolves when she tried to run away from me.

You see, I thought that she and I had a bond. What else do all of the afternoons we spent reading and having snowball fights mean? I know that I was only trying to win her affection to break this rather...ahem..._hairy _curse that I'm under, but things were going so well. What can I do to win Belle back?

Sincerely,  
The Beast

***

Dear Beast,

Now, I've always wanted to ask you this. Once you changed back into a human (remember, there is no coherent time-line in this story) are you able to change between beast and man at will? Because I think that would be way cool.

But actually I'm going to refer you to Haldír, our on-call dating expert, for advice.

_Haldír graciously sat on an indignant Elrond's lap to continue the response._

Alrighty, Beast. Let's start at square one. Have you ever heard of a thing called a razor? Please tell me you aren't related to those smelly Dúnedain who refuse to shower and clip their beards. I know you have quite a bit more fur than the average….er…person, but that's no reason to slack on personal hygiene.

Though if Severus Snape was able to get laid, I suppose there's hope for all of us.

Secondly, females generally don't like it when you SCREAM at them. They take offense easily, especially when you insult them. I know. I don't understand it either. So you could try by, I don't know, keeping your voice to a low growl or only a slightly menacing purr.

Actually, on second thought, don't purr at her. It might frighten her more than the screaming.

Now, if she's still furious with you, I've found it's quite pleasurable to cover yourself in chocolate and parade naked in front of her until she forgives you. This might end up being a terrible idea for you (somehow fur and chocolate don't scream "sexy" to me, but to each her own) but it's worth a shot, no?

Hope this helps,

Haldír

* * *

_Idea submitted by Melibells_

Dear Elrond...er...Boss...er...Sir,

I thought I should bring to your attention that while on our midday lunch break; it seems that a fair number of Glorfindel's...undergarments...have gone missing. And one of my workers came to me claiming that they saw your sons sneaking about the laundry facilities. I'm not sure how to explain this to Glorfindel, especially since I can only guess that it was your sons that have decorated the architecture with garlands of said undergarments. That, and is there anything you can do to keep your sons out of my work area? They really are distracting all the young ladies working here.

Respectfully,  
Supervisor of the Rivendell Laundry Service

***

Dear…an elf whose name I should know,

Thank you very much for telling me. I will not be telling Glorfindel, as I think it's high time he wear a more supportive kind of underwear (I have had to see him every single day for several thousand years, and I'm tired of having to avert my eyes every time he adjusts himself).

Er…hope you are in good health.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Kurbi_

Dear Mr. Elrond,

I'm not asking for you to give _me_ advice as much as asking you to _stop_ giving advice. To one person in particular.

Frankly, I'm not absolutely sure that you exist. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that people who Dwight worships tend not to be real. But hey, _someone's_ obviously telling Dwight to go back to Staples; he wouldn't do that on his own, not after I expressly took him back with open arms and a loving heart. We're just one big happy family here in Scranton.

Dwight's kind of weird, and he sucks the funny out of the room like no one else, but God--he's our top salesman, and I really think Jim would suffer without him. They're very close.

So please, fictional-eyebrow-dude, just tell him his position is safe. Ryan will always occupy a special place in my heart--he's my brainchild, after all--but I don't think he's Assistant to the Regional Manager material. Too spirited, too lively, too free-willed. Too hot, for that matter. And it's not even a real position anyway.

Thanks,  
Michael Scott

***

Dear Michael Scott,

I…you're…it's…

I don't even know how to…

I…what?

Yeah, I think that about sums it up.

Lord Elrond

P.S: Your "that's what she said" jokes suck. You should talk to Haldír about that.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Earendilion_

Dear Elrond,

Since you are the foremost healer in all of Arda, and therefore probably the foremost healer EVER, would you happen to know a good prosthetic limbs specialist? Or perhaps you yourself harbor such skills? Honestly, if Luke Skywalker can do it, I should most certainly be able to do it. Besides, I am getting quite tired of having someone cut my food up for me.

Best,  
Maedhros

***

Dear Maedhros,

I would adore giving you your right hand back; however I am absolutely terrified of your brothers. So instead I'll give you Frodo's number, as I think he's taking care of a similar problem.

Lord Elrond

P.S: That shade of your hair is absolutely lovely. I have never seen that color auburn. Glorfindel was wondering if he could reproduce it for sale. What say you?

* * *

_Idea submitted by Lehalia_

Dear Elrond,

I tought I taw a puddy tat!

Tweety Bird

***

Dear Tweety,

You did, you did. You did see a pussy cat.

But, please remember:

If I were a bird, I'd sing a song

And fly about the whole day long

And when the nigh came

Go to rest up in my cozy little nest.

Otherwise known as: chill out, Tweety. Your speech impediment is giving me a headache.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Robbie the Phoenix_

To: OldPointyEars at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: LittleGold at ChocolateCoveredCherriesForever . org  
Subject: Hello From Monkey Island

Dear Elrond

I suppose you're wondering how I could possibly be sending this email if I was recently melted down and given to a certain blonde elf as a… gift.

First of all, no, there is no email in the afterlife. Or at least, that's not where I'm sending this email from. You see, I DID manage to escape that frightful Weasley girl, but I knew that if she knew I was actually gone, she'd come looking for me.

So, I asked one of my buddies—a little more clunky than me, but for the most part a dead ringer, no pun intended—from the Society Against the Abuse of Sentient Inanimate Objects to act as my decoy until I was a sufficient distance away (I was horrified to hear what had happened to him in the line of duty).

I have now retired to Monkey Island, where I intend to spend the rest of my days being hand fed chocolate covered cherries by the natives. Don't try to find me. I've amassed an army of well trained monkeys, but as long as I am left in peace, I will not inflict them upon the world.

This will be my final letter to you.

Sincerely,  
One Ring to Rule Them All

P.S: Give Frodo a good kick in the rear from me.

P.P.S: How I digest my chocolate covered cherries is for me to know and you to NEVER, EVER find out.

***

To: LittleGold at ChocolateCoveredCherriesForever . org  
From: FinallyRidOfBling at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: So long, farewell

Dear the One Ring,

Well, I can't say I'm surprised to hear that you wimped out and send your brother-in-arms to take the fall for you. Such a shameless inanimate object you are. Jeez, man.

Well, have a good afterlife I guess. I hope you're aware of what monkeys are famous for, and that what they're feeding you is indeed chocolate covered cherries and not covered with some other brown substance.

It's been fun, One Ring.

Well, no it hasn't. But it's moot anyways.

Lord Elrond

* * *

_Idea submitted by Aearwen22_

To: Mitzi at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
From: GreatElvenKing at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Say what?

Dear...

Mitzi?

You gotta be kidding me.

Mitzi? You were MITZI?

BWAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahaha!! (and yes, you can hear the echoes of this all the way across my realm)

You should have SEEN Arwen's face after I rented that movie and pointed you out to her. I swear, I haven't laughed this long, this hard and this often since I watched you trying to trip Isildur into falling in a magma pit up on Mount Doom and ended up burning your... well, never mind. Although, come to think of it, that really does explain a lot.

But really. MITZI?

BWAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaha!

(Pardon the watermarks. I weep copiously when I laugh that hard.)

Oh. And by the way, just wanted to let you know that I'm instituting a law that requires passports for all non-Elven visitors to Mirkwood from now on. The spiders have had it with all the funny-tasting fare coming down the road of late. Although that last one you "urged" to come visit me - I think his name is Scrotum... Skrunchy... No, it was Scrute... Yea, Dwight Scrute. Yes, well, HIM I like. I always did need a court jester.

Just thought you'd want to know.

BTW, Arwen wants me to ask you where you got that delicious green dress. She wants one like that; or, failing that, she wants to know if she can borrow yours.

No kidding.

Thranduil, Great Elven King of Mirkwood

P.S: Mitzi?

BWAHAHAHAHahahahahhaha!

Just you wait until I get a chance to tell Celebrían about this one! You'll regret failing the Elven King Test for sure after that one!

***

To: BottomFeeder at Mirkwood . elfrealm . ME  
From: NotAshamed at Rivendell . elfrealm . ME  
Subject: Let's be real here.

Dear Thranduil,

I'll be sure to tell the other creepers I send to the Greenwood that they need proper identification to do so. I'm sure Haldír wouldn't be averse to starting a Black Market.

I am not ashamed of my past. My wife is fully aware of my past…escapades. And let me tell you there are certain aspects of my former life she has truly enjoyed. And let's not forget Glorfindel and Erestor. I don't see you writing snarky e-mails to THEM.

BIGOT.

I don't appreciate being discriminated against because of my hair color. Not cool, Thranduil. Not cool.

Tell you what. You try dressing up like that someday (the feminine apparel is actually quite a satisfying feeling…silky and nice) and I'll stop sending random characters to Mirkwood. Sound good? I want photos. You have video documentation of MY experiences (don't knock it 'til you've tried it) so the least you can do is give me a scrap book page, or at least a laminated copy…

If you truly found it _this_ amusing, your intellect is even more lacking than I anticipated. I think I'm going to have to re-think writing to you so frequently, as it must be taking away from your finger-painting class.

Lord Elrond

P.S: You're stupid.

* * *

_Idea submitted by Bannoth_

Dear labradorite,

Knock knock!

The Host of Valinor has arrived at your doorstep under the command of my trusty subordinate Eönwë.

We have also contacted the police of your world (some organization styling themselves the FBI), we explained to them how important we are and not wishing to cause a severe diplomatic incident with the Valar and the Elves, their agents are now stationed at every corner of your house.

There is no escape.

Release the hostages within 5 minutes or we will storm your residence without pity or mercy. You have held Eru's children for too long.

Hang in there, Elrond, and tell your brethren that help is on the way. We have come for you at last. (Sorry it took so long, but the Host got lost in that place the mortals call the Sahara Desert and then you wouldn't believe how expensive airplane tickets are for 50 immortal warriors...)

Anyway, rejoice for you shall soon be free and will be fully compensated for any damages wrought unto you. Just name what you want and I can give it

Manwë Súlimo  
High King of the Entire World

***

Dear Manwë,

Er…I suppose 'hey look over there!' won't work…but I feel like I should tell you that I'm not actually staying at that house anymore…Elrond and I took everyone back to Imladris quite a few chapters ago…

But actually I need you guys so if you could follow the hostess on your left she'll direct you to us. Mmkay pumpkin?

Sorry for all the extra paperwork this will require. Erestor can help you out if you'd like.

labradorite

* * *

Dear Elrondy Half-Pudding,

Well, I've finally gotten the hint! Now, after all this time of our correspondence, I've finally figured out what you've been trying to tell me…

You want me to wear thongs!!

Why else would you have strung up those delicious little undergarments all over the house? Oh Elrond, you shouldn't have! I'm so sorry for not understanding earlier, dearest, and I promise that on our wedding night I'll be dressed appropriately.

Love Always,

Mirror Image

***

Dear Mirror Image,

Instead of answering, I've decided to refer to Google Translator for help.

Unë të urrej.

Nenávidím tĕ.

Jeg hader dig.

Ik haat je.

Ma vihkan sind.

Minä vihaan sinua.

Ich hasse dich.

Ti odio.

Je te déteste.

I. HATE. YOU.

Goodbye!

Love,

Lord Elrond

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to take this time to hand out some thank-you's. **

**Many thanks to everyone who has read this story; I hope that somewhere within this confusing blabbering you have found amusement :).**

**Thanks, also, to any of you who have Favorite-d this story. I know I didn't respond to any of you regarding that, and for that I am truly sorry, but please know how delighted I was each time I received an e-mail regarding it.**

**To anyone who reviewed, be guaranteed that it made my day. I tried my best to reply to each and every review, just to try and convey my overwhelming gratitude. **

**And the most emotional recognition is to anyone who submitted a letter to Elrond. You guys have been absolutely incredible. Thank you all so very much for your support and love over the past few months; I will never forget the unconditional devotion and help I've received as I embarked on what seemed to be an impossible adventure, and I know that I couldn't have achieved any of this without you. **

**To each and every one of you: A star shone at the hour of our meeting. Navaer.**


	30. Chapter 30

It was another beautiful day in Imladris. Elrond looked out his office window longingly, wanting more than anything to take a nice summer picnic with Celebrían. Shoving the papers on his desk aside (carefully avoiding glancing at a certain advice column) he stretched and yawned, pushing his hair out of his eyes. So what if labradorite was trying to get this chapter out before the weekend? She wasn't the boss of him! There was no reason for him to be cooped up in that stuffy office while everyone else frolicked in the gardens. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, his advisors were screaming, his sons were cackling…

BANG!

Standing abruptly, Elrond ran to his office door just to collide with a frantic Glorfindel.

"My thongs!" Glorfindel screeched, throwing himself onto the Elven Lord. Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the blond elf. "All of my precious thongs!"

"What's going on?"

"Glorfindel!" Erestor roared from behind them, coming to an abrupt stop behind the entwined pair. "What have you done with my makeup bag?!"

"Elrond!" came another voice. Celebrían stalked forward angrily, covered from head to toe in what looked suspiciously like jell-o. "I opened the most recent Thranduil letter for you, and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!"

Suddenly the entire hallway outside of Lord Elrond's office was very full with angry people, some of which were certainly not in the haven before…or even among the living.

"Elrond! How dare you respond to my wife like that!"

"Elrond! Are you sure you don't think I should get plastic surgery?"

"Elrond! I'm your biggest fan!!!"

"Elrond!"

"Elrond?"

"ELROND!!"

"ELROND!?"

"LABRADORITE!!!" Elrond screamed, peeling a weeping Legolas off of his arms and shaking various hobbits off of his robes. "WHERE ARE YOU?!" labradorite turned the corner curiously, observing the chaotic scene before her with a soft sigh.

Most of the hallway contained people in various stages of distress, ranging from the livid Denethor to the crying Pinocchio. What part of the corridor wasn't filled with irate readers was mostly engulfed in flames, or in other forms of destruction. The walls were covered with some slimy substance and what _looked _to be purple paint, and the ceiling was drenched in pudding, dripping down onto the confused crowd. Edward Cullen was eying the hobbits hungrily, Harry Potter was trying to pry a giggling Arwen off of him and the One Ring was bouncing around, trying to possess people. Fires from several Balrog were licking at the heels of the advisors and almost everyone was screaming.

"ENOUGH!!" labradorite screamed, affectively silencing the crowd. They stared at her defiantly, waiting for her to speak. "I seriously don't get paid enough for this job."

"You don't get paid _at all_, actually," Elladan pointed out from atop Boromir's shoulders. She merely looked at him, a mutinous look, and he fell silent.

"Okay," labradorite rubbed her face exasperatedly. Before continuing, she turned to Elrond and matched his quirked eyebrow. "What did you do?"

That was the final straw for Lord Elrond. "WHAT DID I _DO_?!!? WHAT DID _I _DO?!" WHAT _DID _I DO?!" WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DID I DO?! I WAS SITTING IN MY OFFICE COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU LIKE USUAL AND THESE WHOO-HA'S—" here he gestured angrily at Glorfindel and Erestor who voiced an indignant "Hey!" "—AND SUDDENLY MY PRECIOUS, PEACEFUL HAVEN WAS FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH THE RIDICULOUS MEMBERS OF THIS STUPID FANFICTION!! OF _YOUR _MAKING!! IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU I WOULD HAVE A PEACEFUL LIFE FULL OF JOY AND LOVE BUT INSTEAD, AFTER BEING KIDNAPPED—"

"Now you know perfectly well you all came of your own volition, Elrond—"

"AND HALF MY KIN BEING DRENCHED IN YUMMY DESSERT TOPPINGS AND SENT AROUND THE WORLD—"

"Er, I don't exactly remember you and Celebrían complaining about that—"

"I FINALLY MANAGE TO CONVINCE YOU TO LET ME GO HOME WHEN I, AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT, ALLOW YOU TO COME WITH US—"

"You said you wanted to finish the story, too—"

"AND I'M SITTING PEACEFULLY IN MY PEACEFUL OFFICE OBSERVING MY PEACEFUL HAVEN AND THEN--"

"Can you find another adjective, please? You're becoming tedious."

"AND _THEN!! _AND THEN MY PEACEFUL CORRIDOR PREVIOUSLY FILLED WITH PEACE IS NOW FILLED WITH CRAZIES!! _CRAZIES!! _I HOPE YOU HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS, LABRADORITE! BECAUSE I'M DONE! I'M DONE WITH THIS STUPID FANFIC, DONE WITH THIS STUPID ADVICE COLUMN, DONE DEALING WITH THRANDUIL AND HALDÍR AND MIRROR IMAGE AND—AND—AND—"

"Are you finished?" labradorite asked calmly, staring up at the tall elf disdainfully. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and glared down at her. He was breathing heavily (something that did not go unnoticed to several squeeing fangirls) and his face had turned an unnatural shade of maroon. He apparently decided it was a rhetorical question, and gripped her tightly by the wrists as he wrenched her into his office, slamming the door behind them. No noise came from behind the thick oak door, though almost everyone stood in shocked silence with their ears pressed against it. There was an occasional creaking of a chair or fluttering of pages, but other than that…

"Do you think she's getting reamed out?" Aragorn asked almost fearfully, glancing around him nervously.

"No," answered Gandalf wisely. "I bet Elrond is the one getting bitch slapped."

"That fella needs to grow a pair," Saruman replied smartly, looking around him as if hoping the wall sconces would give a hearty "Hear, hear!"

"Still, I certainly wouldn't want to be the one in _that_ office!" Declared Halbarad rather pompously, clearly still stung that he had been left out of the movies. Arathorn patted him on the back comfortingly.

Legolas, who had finally gotten control of himself, shot irritated glares at the blushing fangirls and stormed off, dragging a protesting Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn, Glorfindel, Erestor, Thranduil, Faramir, Boromir, Haldír, Celebrían, Arwen, Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Gandalf, Merry, Éowyn, Éomer, Denethor, Théoden, Rúmil, Orophin, Galadriel, Celeborn, Círdan, and Saruman along with him. Apparently Legolas has super strength and arms the length of a two by four.

Soon the only members of this fic who were left were the ones from different stories. Bella was glomping happily on a protesting Darth Vader while Fred and George were gleefully taunting Dora the Explorer. Harry Potter was attempting to subtly disengage himself from Mulan's grasp and Nemo was flopping around on the ground, trying in vain to put out the Balrog's fire.

In short, it made no sense at all.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Elrond's office…_

labradorite sighed and pounded her head on the desk, attempting to put herself out of her misery. Elrond was stomping around his office, ranting and raving about complete nonsense that clearly she wasn't responsible for. She had somehow commandeered his desk (after a brief cat fight) and was answering his mail (both fan mail and advice column mail) while trying her damndest not to trip him as he paced by.

"AND ANOTHER THING! NAZGÛL NUMBER SEVEN IS RUNNING AROUND, ASKING RANDOM WOMEN IF THEY COULD 'POLISH HIS SWORD' FOR HIM AND OTHER REVOLTING INNUENDOS! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DEAL WITH THAT?! AND SUDDENLY IT'S _MY _PROBLEM THAT FRODO WANTS A PROSTHETIC FINGER—"

"You've gotten another letter from Mirror Image, Elrond," labradorite replied exasperatedly. At her soft words he whirled around, his robes, hair and ego billowing out impressively behind him.

"OH?!" he shouted, pointing his index finger in her face.

She went cross eyed trying to focus on it, and answered with a: "…Yes."

"…Oh. Well, what does it say?"

"Umm…" she skimmed the letter quickly, trying to avoid mental pictures and skipping over words like 'throbbing' and 'sweat.' "Just another one of the graphic ones I won't put in the chapters." Elrond huffed impatiently, ripping the sheet out of her hands and tossing it into the fireplace. Unfortunately, as it was summer there was no fire in said fireplace, and the piece of paper slipped off of the bricks and directly back onto Elrond's feet. He raised a brow at the offending piece of paper.

"We seriously need to figure out who this Mirror Image is."

"Look," labradorite tried to distract him. "I understand that this story has been inconvenient for you, but I can't just end it without some sort of closure, you know? I _had _to invite all of the people who have been a part of this fic."

"Yes, but did you really have to invite _Thranduil_?!"

"…"

"What?"

"Is this entire conversation about Thranduil? Are you seriously telling me we've been shouting at each other for three hours in this office because of THRANDUIL!?!?"

Elrond just looked at her. "What's your point?"

In response, labradorite started to bang her head on the desk again and Elrond continued pacing back and forth, occasionally stealing a glance at the young woman who had made his life living hell since this advice column began.

* * *

Back in the gardens of Imladris, various characters (namely ones who felt distinctly left out) were occupying their time by reenacting the Council of Elrond.

"Alright," Círdan rapped his hand smartly on the stone pillar in front of him. "I declare the Council of Círdan (doesn't that sound so much nicer with the alliteration?!) officially open!"

There was a moment of silence. "…What exactly are we deciding on at this council?" Lindir asked slowly.

"…Um…we're here to decide whether or not…um…"

"We should be deciding whether or not 'Ask Elrond' should be all e-mail now!" exclaimed an overexcited Gróin.

"Well I think that's a fairly simple argument," Gorbag the orc said matter-of-factly. "I mean, just imagine the outrageous e-mail addresses we're going to have to look up just to see if someone sent one. 'BraidedBeast at Lothlórien . elfrealm . ME, MileyCyrusHater at Rohan . ME, CrazyCurls at Shire . Hobbiton . ME.' The list would be endless. We have enough trouble just figuring out where Thranduil is sending his letters."

"It's not like _you're _doing much work at all, Gorbag," Bobby the Balrog practically snarled from his right. "I don't see _you_ checking your mailbox every week."

"Don't start with me, ROBERT," the orc snapped back.

"Guys…" Rúmil started to protest.

"OH. You did NOT just go there!"

"I think I did."

"Guys, c'mon, this is supposed to be a council…" Rúmil started again, but he was abruptly cut off when Bobby the Balrog lunged forcefully at Gorbag, his whip and tail sizzling the other council members.

"Ow! What the hell, Bob?! Settle down!" Celeborn scolded, rubbing his pointed ears vigorously. "Just chill out!" At the elf lord's words, Bobby the Balrog seethed, but gave Gorbag one last dirty look and sat down. Gorbag smirked defiantly.

"Look," Círdan continued as if there had been no interruption. "We didn't come here to talk about Thranduil's ridiculous e-mail."

"Then what did we come here for?" asked Halbarad tiredly.

"I'm…not sure, exactly."

At his words, the rest of the 'council' stood up grumbling and left the circle; as Morgoth left the garden, he gave the gold bracelet/earring set sitting in the center a baleful look. Círdan rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "I seriously didn't give Elrond enough credit for this."

* * *

"Hey…labradorite?"

"Yeah?"

"…do you know who Mirror Image is?" labradorite looked up at Lord Elrond, who was sitting in a big puffy arm chair and looking quite forlorn. She sighed. She knew this was going to come up sooner or later.

"What makes you ask that?" she tried to act nonchalant as she faked flipping through the latest issue of _The Isengard Inquirer._

"I don't know…" Elrond swirled the deep red wine around in his goblet as he spoke. He was eerily calm, considering Mirror Image was such a sore subject for the raven-haired elf lord. "You just never seem surprised when we get a letter and you always have a reply ready for her almost immediately. I was just curious."

"Considering how often I deal with Haldír nowadays, I'm surprised that you're surprised."

"I don't think 'surprised' is the right word exactly…"

"Then what is?"

"_Suspicious_," came his low voice. Something in the deep timbre had changed, and labradorite looked up, alarmed.

Suddenly labradorite was looking at the end of a very sharp weapon. "Elrond! What are you doing?!"

"I know that you know who that infernal creature is, labradorite," Elrond growled, his dagger poised expertly between her eyes. "And I know that you can stop the madness."

"Elrond, if I knew how to stop the madness this story would have ended ages ago and—"

"Don't play dumb with me, woman!" he roared; she let out a small whimper. "TELL. ME. WHO. SHE. IS."

"Ada!" Arwen's worried voice came from outside the thick oak door. "Can you come out here, please? Odo Proudfoot has gotten into the cumquats again…"

Elrond let out a frustrated rumble and, giving labradorite one last menacing look that clearly read as 'don't-think-for-one-second-we're-finished-with-this-bitch,' he sheathed his dagger and strode towards his daughter, his ego still billowing out imposingly behind him.

She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding. How long could she keep up the charade? Did she know who Mirror Image was? Well, of course. Was she planning on telling Elrond? No way in hell. Clearly he wasn't going to stop until he found out, though. What was she going to do? And then, she got an idea! _An awful idea! _LABRADORITE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"Hey, Araloth?" labradorite called out. The side door that led to Elrond's private living quarters opened silently, and Araloth the Random poked her head out.

"What's up?"

labradorite's lips curved into a smirk. "I have an idea on how Elrond can figure out who Mirror Image is."

"Do you?" At her question an excited cry rang out from the other side of the door, and both Aeärwen and NiRi bounded into the room.

"I need everyone's help, though." NiRi gestured and soon Bannoth, Robbie the Phoenix, TheFightingTemeraire and dinopoodle had joined them. "How willing are you all to flirt shamelessly with various characters to get them to do whatever we want?"

They all looked at her, surprised. "That was a stupid question," they said in unison. She grinned. Perfect.

"We have to do this quickly, so Elrond doesn't suspect too much. Can one of you call one of the twin's cell phones? They can help us."

"I'm on it," Bannoth said, whipping out her phone.

"Someone has to be in charge of placing the clues…"

"Not a problem!" Araloth grinned impishly.

"Well!" labradorite stood, and for a moment her eyes gleamed very much like her favorite Peredhel. "I think it's time for me to whip out one of my 'I-want-to-say-this-cliché-before-I-die' phrases! So: let the games begin!"

"Hear, hear!" The wall sconces cheered.

* * *

"And then _I_ told Galadriel that no matter what she said I wasn't going to do it! And then _she _said that Beren told _her_ that Celebrían told _him _that Sauron told _her_…"

"Mithrandir…" Elrond massaged his temples as he sat perched on a tree limb with Gandalf pacing below him. He needed to go talk to labradorite before she escaped! Once she got to Glorfindel he wouldn't see her for days. As soon as he got his hands on her…

"And before I knew it, I was in the middle of some ridiculous_ a cappella _contest! I mean, honestly! Who does she think she—"

"Ada?" Elrond looked down through the branches to see his twin sons standing below, staring up at him with identical innocent eyes.

Elrond wasn't convinced. "Yes?"

"Can you come with us for a minute?"

"What do you need?" Elrond asked as he leapt gracefully down from the limb.

They didn't answer. Instead, they grasped his forearms and dragged him towards the main garden of Imladris. "Elladan, Elrohir, what is this about?"

"You'll see, Adar," Elrohir replied swiftly. Elrond glared at his younger son, eliciting nothing but a half-smirk.

Once they arrived in the courtyard a very strange scene greeted their grey eyes. An incredibly large mass of people stood in a horse-shoe, surrounding a very large statue depicting Elrond shoving Isildur into the fires of Mount Doom that TheFightingTemeraire had sculpted.

"Alright!" labradorite called out as she posed from atop stone-Elrond's shield. "As far as I can tell, we have to answer the riddle to find the next clue! Are you all ready?"

A very hearty "YES!!" rang out from the enormous crowd below. Both labradorite and Aeärwen (who was happily perched upon stone-Isildur's outstretched hand) looked slightly alarmed before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"Okay, if you have any ideas about what the answer to the riddle is please RAISE. YOUR. HAND." Aeärwen admonished, staring pointedly at a grinning Thranduil.

"What is all this?" Elrond's deep voice rang out from behind the group. 126.47 heads turned around in unison to look at him.

"Lord Elrond!" NiRi exclaimed from atop the stone-Mount Doom. "We're trying to figure out who Mirror Image is. Wanna help?"

Elrond stared at her disdainfully. "I'd much rather beat labradorite unconscious."

"Well, our way requires far less paperwork."

"Okay!" Araloth jumped in before Elrond could grow devil horns and lunge at the unsuspecting author. "Here's the first clue," she ripped open a piece of frilly pink paper and the intense smell of perfume wafted over the characters. Everyone wrinkled their noses at the scent. "Go to the Hall of Fire."

"…" the crowd said in chorus.

"Well, that was fairly straightforward!" Frodo said, cheerfully sporting his brand new fake finger.

"Let's go!" exclaimed Legolas as he happily bounced from one foot to the other. And the crowd sprinted across the garden (crushing many flowers and making poor Samwise weep) to the Hall of Fire.

Once arrived, panting and breathless, they began searching the large room. "Check all the fireplaces! Check under the seat cushions! Check anywhere unusual!" Aragorn declared in his Kingly voice.

"Uh, Estel? The next note is hanging right there." Halbarad pointed in the very center of the room where, indeed, the note was hanging from a delicate pink string. Instead of moving towards the note, the crowd continued to stare at the two Rangers.

"Since when do you call me Estel?" Aragorn asked, confused. Halbarad shrugged.

"I don't know, I guess it just seems to fit you better. And, well, everyone else calls you 'Aragorn' all the time now, it's not our special thing anymore…"

Aragorn stared at him. "Why, Halbarad! I've never seen this side of you before!" The two men looked at each other with glazed eyes as Arwen watched from the side, a relatively menacing look on her face.

"I—I love you, man!" Halbarad said tearfully. Aragorn smiled a broad smile and the two embraced lovingly.

"I love you too, man. I love you, too."

* * *

"Ahem." The pair looked up from each other's shoulders to grin sheepishly at the on-looking crowd. Arwen grabbed her husband's arm and pulled him to her, not noticing the rather longing look he shot towards his kinsman.

"What does the note say?" the creepily in-sync crowd asked Robbie the Phoenix.

"It reads: What tastes like grass, has lots of sass, looks like glass, and has a great ass?"

There was dead silence.

"Er…could it be a daffodil?" Pippin asked hopefully.

"That doesn't make any sense at all, Pip," Merry said with a sigh.

"I'VE GOT IT!" cried Gandalf. "IT'S A MOP!"

Another beat of silence. "THAT _MUST _BE IT!" everyone agreed loudly, and they dashed off to the nearest broom closet.

"How does a mop make sense but a daffodil doesn't?" Pippin asked breathlessly as they ran.

"Don't question a wizard!" Voldemort answered him.

They came to a halting stop (though many people were still in the Hall of Fire as the group was so large) in front of the closed door, and Saruman wrenched it open to reveal another heavily scented note perched joyfully on the handle. Pippin would never again question the wisdom of a Maia.

Atop the note, in big, bold print, were the letters 'IR.'

"'IR?'" Orophin asked aloud, shoving a glomping Pocahontas off of his leg. "Why are there letters?"

"Well, clearly each note will contain two letters and in the end we have to un-scramble them to make the name of Mirror Image," explained Erestor. Everyone stared at him. "What?"

Shaking his head, Elrond reached for the next note. "What flies like a bird but carries a sword, is kind of a nerd, and has but one word?"

"WHY DON'T THESE RIDDLES MAKE SENSE?!" Manwë cried out, throwing his godly hands into the air.

"It does make sense, Manwë dear," Galadriel soothed. "You just have to think harder! Let's think about this together, okay?" Her condescending tone affectively pacified the distraught Vala.

"CELEBRÍAN'S FAVORITE ROSEBUSH!!" roared Orlando Bloom; there was a slight echo as his self-esteem agreed with him.

"OF COURSE!"

And they were off! They ran through The Last Homely House, through Elrond's bedroom (where they saw things no mortal should ever see) and into Celebrían's private garden. Held fast by a thorn, the letters 'OH' winked brightly at them.

"Elrond, why do you have a neon-green teddy bear with the name 'Pookie' on its belly?"

"Can I borrow these smiley face boxers?"

"What is this receipt from Victoria's Secret for?"

"STOP GOING THROUGH MY DRAWERS!"

* * *

"Okay, guys: Who is really dumb, has super long thumbs, always needs Tums, and hangs around with bums?" TheFightingTemeraire read aloud from atop Treebeard's branches. Everyone looked puzzled.

"Don't all shout at once," Eldarion whispered dryly, earning himself a rather girly pinch from Orophin.

"Okay, let's think about this logically," Elwing started counting on her fingers. "We should skip the 'who is really dumb' portion because that part will take too long."

"True that," all the authors harmonized.

"Who always needs Tums? Could they be talking about a hobbit?" The hobbits glared at her. "And I suppose we have to skip the 'hangs around with bums' part, too."

"So basically what we have to go on is 'has super long thumbs.'" Bannoth quirked an eyebrow at her while perched on Manwë's Valar-ly shoulders.

"No, not really, as the Noldor Elves are known best for their long thumbs. So it actually doesn't narrow it down at all."

"…"

"I'VE GOT IT!" screeched Dumbledore, who has suddenly become partial to screeching. "IT'S THE VASE ERESTOR MADE FOR GLORFINDEL'S 8,472nd BEGETTING DAY!!"

The crowd looked upon him in both confusion and wonder.

"It's so deep…" stated Sam in confusion.

"Yet so obvious…" finished Merry in wonder.

"Let's go!" And as they ran through the beautiful garlands of Glorfindel's thongs (here we lose many of the group as they stop to fight over them) they reached the hallway which contained all of the vases Erestor has made for Glorfindel's begetting days. As you can imagine, it was a rather long hallway. As they approached the specific, Barbie themed urn, a bright pink note with the letters "LR" shimmered in the sunlight.

"Another clue!" Captain Obvious shouted jovially. "What does it say?"

dinopoodle unfolded the note with a rather disgusted look on her face. "What rhymes with snuggies, doesn't like buggies, gives lots of huggies, and has a pet puggy?"

"Well, that seems rather obvious, doesn't it?" asked a bored-looking Celeborn.

"NO, CELEBORN. NO IT DOESN'T," exploded a red-faced Círdan randomly. Even his beard was starting to look rather pink. "BECAUSE NONE OF THESE RIDICULOUS CLUES OR ANSWERS MAKES ONE LICK OF SENSE. I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Yes?" Manwë looked up from the Victoria's Secret catalogue he was browsing.

"—THAT IF YOU SAY THE SEVENTH DOOR ON THE LEFT DOWN THE TWELFTH CORRIDOR NEXT TO THE STAIRS I'M GOING TO PUNCH SOMEONE IN THE FACE."

Gandalf stared at him in amazement. "How ingenious of you, Círdan! Well done!" Círdan's face reddened even more at this statement, and as he reached forward to strangle the Maia, his foot came back in a rather girly manner and he knocked the bright pink off of its pedestal.

"Oh, no!" the crowd gasped as said vase twirled like a cartoon and fell gracefully to the floor with a matching SMASH! Círdan winced as Glorfindel approached him with a nasty gleam in his eyes.

"I'll get a broom," sighed Frodo. Many suspected he only offered to show off his new finger.

As Frodo returned with the broom and carefully swept up the glittering pieces, the rest of the crowd turned towards the door (namely the seventh door on the left down the twelfth corridor next to the stairs) which was quite conveniently located just behind them. Taped to the door was a frilly pink note sporting the glimmering letters "NE."

* * *

"I'm beginning to think…that these letters are going to form a name…" Faramir said slowly. Erestor glared at him.

"Yes, we've established that."

"Just read the note, Pippin," Elrond rubbed his temples warily.

"This one doesn't rhyme! Listen: who has long, brown hair, is a dwarf, rhymes with Slimli, and carries an axe?" Everyone turned to look at the one dwarf in the room.

"What?" Gimli asked crossly. He flipped his long, brown hair over his shoulder and adjusted his axe. "I don't have anything!"

"Then where is the next clue?" Faramir walked forward in attempt to search the dwarf, who purred menacingly.

"I have it," Glorfindel said, still mourning the loss of one of his favorite vases. He really _was _a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. "The letters are 'DA' and I've already figured out the answer."

"Oh, well if you think _you're _so clever, then tell us what it is!" Ron Weasley stated rather pompously.

"The clue reads: What stands very tall but can't take a fall, loves to go to the mall, is round a ball, and that's all?"

"I'm resisting the urge to make rather off-color joke right now," snickered Sauron. Morgoth stared at him.

"What off-color joke could you possibly make out of that?"

"What's the answer, Glorfindel? I'm growing old over here."

"Shut up, Gil-galad. No you aren't. The answer is the courtyard."

Elrond sighed. "Glorfindel, there are about 284 courtyards in Imladris. Can you narrow it down please?" Glorfindel pointed behind him, and the crowd turned.

"This Mirror Image person sure does know the blue prints of Rivendell," Spock muttered under his breath. "Downright frightening."

The slightly bored and sedated group walked quietly to the courtyard located behind them to see the characters "LA" upon the note. "There sure are a lot of clues," Isildur complained childishly. He twisted his One Ring replica around his finger nervously. He picked up the next note and read in a loud, clear voice: "Who took the ring to Mt. Doom, is in this very room, loves mushrooms, and is holding a broom?" His jaw snapped open in shock. "What are the chances that _I _would be the one reading this note?! It's perfect! I adore mushrooms!"

"Are you holding a broom, Isildur?" Frodo asked crabbily. He had never really forgiven the man for his stupidity in the volcano, despite the fact he had nearly done the same thing.

"Shut up, nine-fingers!"

"HEY. I have ten fingers now, see?! LOOK." Frodo held out the hand holding the broom, revealing all of his ten glorious fingers.

"Frodo, do you have the next clue?" Arwen asked gently. She had been very taken with the hobbit ever since their shared movie-adventures. Glorfindel let out a soft snarl and Arathorn laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No…" Frodo answered, checking his pockets. Besides a Q-Tip, some mushrooms, a lamp-shaped button, and what looked to be an exact replica of the One Ring (Isildur's eyes widened considerably) there was nothing of value on the hobbit's person.

"What about letters?" Aragorn asked. "Do you see any letters anywhere?"

"Well," Frodo said thoughtfully. "My new finger had letters on the bottom of it, but I hardly think—AHH!!" He screeched as Voldemort reached forward and yanked off his prosthetic finger to observe the bottom of it.

"There are letters! In the same font! They even glitter! 'EL'"

* * *

"So that must be it!" Elladan and Elrohir called out happily. "What do the letters spell?"

"IR-OH-LR-NE-DA-LA-EL," Arwen parroted.

"Andrea Hole Rill?" Darth Vader suggested. "Do you know anyone named Andrea Hole Rill? Or perhaps Diana Hell Errol. Or maybe Randall Heir Leo. Or—"

"Shut up, Father," Luke sighed irritable. Darth Vader looked at the ground guiltily, shuffling his feet.

"I've got it!" proclaimed Percy (a.k.a. the Mouth of Sauron). "It spells 'In a Droll Healer!'" The crowd stared at him. "What?" he asked defensively. "It makes sense! The clue is in someone who is a healer and is also witty!"

Everyone turned to look at Elrond, who blanched considerably. labradorite strode up next to him and handed him a small slip of paper with frighteningly familiar handwriting on it.

"It's from Mirror Image, Elrond," labradorite smirked. "Your very last love letter. Go on, open it!"

Elrond managed to spare her an ominous glare before blanching again and tearing open the letter.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "An acrostic poem. It reads:

**E Elegant as a wheat stalk on a summer's day,**

**L Long winded as my everlasting love for you.**

**R Ridiculously awesome (like Chex Mix);**

**O Oblong, very much like an ellipse**

**N Near-sighted, though he tries to hide it.**

I am _not _near sighted!" Elrond exclaimed angrily. "And I'm not oblong either! What the hell is this nonsense?!"

"Finish the poem, dear," Celebrían soothed. But as Elrond read the final line to himself, his face turning an awful shade of red to pink to green to blue to purple to brown and then back to red again, he spoke with a snarl as identical smirks appeared on three members of the crowd.

**"D Dear old Dad, who we've been scamming for years."**

A beat of silence.

* * *

"RUN!" shouted Elrohir and Elladan as they and labradorite sprinted frantically away. But Elrond was faster. He pounced in front of them (he truly was long winded as their everlasting love for him), breathing heavily once more as he stared down his twin sons and human captor. The stared defiantly back and watched with amusement as his face started to resemble Joseph's coat of many colors. But just as he opened his mouth to let out an all-mighty roar, TheFightingTemeraire, Aeärwen, Bannoth, dinopoodle, Robbie, NiRi and Araloth stepped up behind him.

As can only happen in the world of fanfiction, Elrond was almost immediately tied up expertly (Robbie gave a sneaky grin) with a strange mixture of handcuffs, rubber bands, rope, a straight-jacket and twist-ties. "It's okay, Elrond," Aeärwen patted his head kindly. "The nice men in white jackets are going to come and take you to a place where you don't have any children. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Instead of protesting loudly, as was expected of the Imladrim Lord, Elrond just sighed and asked: "Will Thranduil be there?" When the reviewers (and labradorite, who was enjoying this way more than she should be) shook their heads, Elrond perked up a bit. And then the nice men in white coats arrived (well, nice elves, really. It was namely Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir and Celeborn); they strapped him to a magical folding gurney (something else Frodo found in his pockets) and rolled him slowly away. The crowd watched in wonder as their stoic, fearless leader was placed on the back of a dragon riding a magic carpet (Aladdin protested loudly); at a gesture from Celeborn, the blond guiding the dragon cracked his whip and they shot off into the sky.

The crowd had begun to disperse, muttering amongst themselves and showing off which thongs they had stolen, when they heard a voice in the wind…

"THRAAAAANDUIIILLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Fin.


End file.
